Amor Vincit Omnia
by InnerSmile
Summary: Willabeth. Set: heyday of the Roman Empire. Will is a wealthy young patrician living in Rome just after his parents death making him lonely and reclusive...till one day when he takes a trip to the market and sees a beautiful blonde slave from Brittania...
1. I: Master Gullielmus Faberius

**Amor Vincit Omnia** - "_**Love conquers all**." (Virgil)_

**A/N: So you've noticed that I've startned a new story eh? Well I'm sorry for the desertion but I just wasn't quite sure what direction I wanted to go next. I considered writing a chapter or two more on 'Revelations' but reconsidered because I thought it had a sufficiant ending. Then I considered a modern day Willabeth story... But in fact, this is about as far as you can get from 'modern'... **

**This story takes place in the heyday of the Roman Empire. Now, first off - I am no expert on Ancient Roman customs, conduct, traditions, or culture, but I will do my best to be as truthful as a I can. Because of this I've changed the main characters names to fit with the culture and traditions. The name 'William' is Germanic - hence no Roman would have this name. But the latinized form of William is Gullielmus (with varying spellings). So, my reasoning for making Will from the region known as Rhaetia (modern day Switzerland and a part of Austria) is so that if his Latin name was Gullielmus, they might assimilate his name as Williemus.... In a nutshell, if I make any huge leaps and stretches of the imagination - please just go along with me.**

**I hope you enjoy, R&R as always - every little bit helps! **

**Thanks, - InnerSmile**

Will sat in the courtyard with a goblet of wine in his hand. The sun had only risen a couple of hours ago, but already he had drank three glasses of the heady, perched drink. Today, of all the days, he would need it the most. Will leaned his head back on the wall of his villa, letting the morning breeze blow gently across his face, showing him know another day was beginning, and yet again, his mind was not the only thing in motion. The city around him was coming alive.

Today was the third anniversary of his mother's death and only 15 days after the death of his father, Gullielmus Faberius Laternisis, a senator of Rome. Will had never known his father, nor even knew he was alive for that matter before three months ago. Will had grown up in Rhaetia, in a wealthy Roman community with his mother. It's true that he and his mother had received a steady flow of a considerable amount of money since Will could remember, but she had always told him it was just the good will of an elderly uncle, never had he considered that the money was actually being sent by his absent father. Once his mother died of a fever, and Will was left on his own, did he discover some time later that his father, whom he thought had died before Will's birth, was in fact a Senator of Rome and in poor health himself. He received this letter late because just after the death of his mother, Will had decided to travel abroad, get away from the harsh memories that faced him day in and day out in his boyhood home, so he had found many distractions to occupy his time, broaden his mind, and attempt to delude the lonely pain. He had sailed to Macedonia, and the coasts of the Dark Country, he had studied with some of the philosophers and read the literature of the great Greeks before him. However, when he heard that his father was unwell, Will immediately set off for the home of the man in Rome. Just a few days before Will made it to the city gates his father's strength give way and he too died, leaving Will, his only son, his lands, home, servants, and wealth. Now this young man was in a strange city, with more notoriety and money than he knows what to do with or ever dreamed of having, but utterly alone.

For a time he considered selling his father's lands, giving away some of the money and returning to his homeland but decided not to dishonor his fathers name in such a way, a name which still had some sort of weight in this bustling city. The only person he knew from his boyhood was his mother's servant, Aemilia, who he sent for once his father's last wishes were in order. This woman had cared for Will when he was a boy, and was his mother's good friend and confidant. More than once his mother offered this woman her freedom, and happily so, but she refused and said she served his family out of love and loyalty – never out of any obligation.

When Will was growing up, he sometimes wished that he had a father like the rest of his friends. His mother never married, which was unheard of for a proper woman of her status – but as he grew older, Will realized that most woman married for a form of monetary security and protection – something that his mother was never in need or want. She was a fiercely independent woman who worked as a seamstress alongside Aemelia since before Will was born. Because he was an only child, his mother never married (or remarried as she professed), and she earned her own money at a meager tailor's shop but somehow managed to live like a politician's wife – there were many rumors, gossips, and mystery surrounding Will's family. When he was a boy, his mother told him that his father and herself married when they were both young, he was a merchant sailor, and left just before Will was born, presumed to have died at sea. One can imagine that once he received a letter from Gullielmus Faberius Laternisis, Will's own name, claiming to be his father – he was shocked. The truth, he learned later, was that his mother and father had never married but only had a brief love affair during his father's travels. Yet when his mother informed his father of her pregnancy he did not return or send for her, but instead sent her a steady flow of money each year for her and his son's support.

When Will had arrived at his father's home he wasn't greeted with a kind smile and a warm hearth but instead by a platoon of mourners. He met an innumerable amount of people that day – some earnest enough to give their condolences and others who were more concerned with familiarizing themselves with the deceased Senator's newly arrived young son – but none of the names stuck, all of the faces deteriorated as soon as they were regarded, because before Will lay the only man who he could still claim as family. Will knelt down at his father's bedside, took his cold hand into his own and wept.

So now, when ever Will was announced to a guest, visitor, or introduced himself to any person of Rome's residence, he was known as Gullielmus Faberius Cicurinus – no longer the little Williemus 'the, mild, gentle' Faberius of the Northern lands above the mountain's divide who played in the river water, amused himself with the crafts of blacksmithing and woodworking, and enjoyed the sunny days quietly in the fields of the countryside. He was now, at the age of 21, the owner of over a dozen slaves, a patrician, and an orphan.

Just then Aemilia, who now was one of the house servants, came out from the villa veranda. "Sir, Felix Antonius is here to see you." The woman spoke gently, knowing that her master's reaction to guests the past few days was less than welcoming.

"I have no desire to see anyone today Mia, tell him to come by again sometime next week." Will said, not bothering to even turn his head from his tensed, but reclined position against the wall.

The older woman sighed and adjusted the ties on her apron. "I warned him you might say that, Sir… but he said he has some news about your father he needs to take up with you."

Now it was Will's turn to sigh. He had had so many visitors demanding they had 'unfinished business' with his father that he had lost count. Many of them were thieves and con men looking to take advantage of this naïve boy from up north but Will saw through every one of them and never paid a debt or donated to a previously committed cause without some sort of proof from the caller. Will stood up, set down his goblet on the table at his side, and allowed his tensed muscles to stretch. He pulled his black toga, signifying his mourning, from the back of the chair and began to wrap it around himself over his linen under tunic. "Very well…" he amended. "Show him to the atrium."

The woman gave him a kind and sympathetic smile as he approached the door. She felt for this boy-this young man, who had to grow up so quickly, and taking everything into account, handled it with considerable grace. She reached up and combed her fingers through his hair like a mother would do to her child to make him a bit more presentable and preened. Will couldn't help but smile a little at her attentions. "Thank you Mia" he said a little lower, so the guest wouldn't hear. "smile, right?" he added, offering her his arm.

She nodded grinned,making the lines at the corners of her bright brown eyes wrinkle as she took his arm "Yes, Sir, I'll show him in."

Will grinned too and shook his head. "How many times do I have to ask you not to call me that? You never have before."

She feigned a scornful air "I have to set an example for your many servants Master Gullielmus Faberius."

"Of course…" He said, playing along. "How could I forget I have a reputation to uphold?"

Felix Antonius was a short, grey haired man, with a thin braid of rope around his tunic that appeared to be out of proportion to his bulbous belly. His sandals were muddy and left a thin trail of grim behind him, Will noticed with a keen eye, but spoke and carried himself with an attitude that would make any other foolish man think he was a patrician rather than a slave-broker.

"So you're telling me that my father paid you in advance for a slave in a 'shipment' that had yet to arrive…for the purpose of purchasing one of these said slaves for _my_ own particular use…and the auction for these people is this afternoon?"

Felix showed a toothy grin. "Yes, but he didn't specify which slave he'd laid his money on, but said once you arrived, you could have your pick of the litter…so to speak"

Will sat back on the couch and regarded the man with a scrupulous eye: He looked him in the eye as he spoke, his hands were unmoving in his lap, the air in the house was comfortably warm but there was not one bead of sweat rising on his forehead, his nostrils didn't flare as he breathed, and his voice never wavered… Will believed him.

Felix could tell the boy was having reservations about the information he was receiving but he was a meticulous businessman and a fairly honest one at that – as honest as a man can be in Rome. "Here…" Felix said as he reached in his satchel for a piece of parchment. "this is a receipt for the money your father gave me, I keep a good record of my transactions."

Will took the ledger and examined it carefully. On the bottom, was his father's official name "G. Faberius Laternisis M f. Sen. Tertivm". He noted that his father had indeed spent a good amount of money on this faceless nameless slave…his father must have meant it as a generous gift once he arrived.

"Listen," Felix continued as Will looked up from the receipt, "Come with me to the market – if you don't see anything to your liking then I swear to the gods that you'll have your father's money back." To make his point, the balding man stuck his hand towards Will.

Will already had more slaves than he knew what to do with: a personal tailor, cobbler, dresser, cooper, artisan, cook, assistants… the last thing he wanted was another member of this staff of strangers…but this was the wish of a dying man. Will looked at the man's hand, at the ledger, then to Aemelia who was listening in the doorway behind the guest– who shrugged, and back at Felix. "If my father wished it." He relented, and shook hands.

Every time Will made a journey into the whirl, flurry, aroma, stench, and stir of Rome's markets he wondered why he ever left the solitude of his hilltop home. The bodies of people seemed to never cease or hesitate. During his travels one thing had always been true to Will no matter where he went, in every country, in every land, the market places – the bazaars – the plakas, are all the same: Old men playing board games, children chasing and laughing after one another, woman grouped together tending to their babies while broadening on their gossip. Any product from every corner of the expanse of the empire was at the fingertips of any Roman who had a coin of the Republic… including human beings.

A cluster of four young women who sat near the steps of the forum watched Will as he walked by alongside Felix. One of them smiled and tapped her friend's arm whispering, managing to catch all of their attention. They all glanced under their lashes at the young man and greeted him with a coy smile. Will quickly averted his eyes but could hear the young women giggle in response to holding his attention for a moment. He had heard from Aemelia a couple of times since his arrival that he, the handsome young son of a senator was one of the most eligible bachelors of the city and the goal of every single young woman with a pulse. Felix had noticed the girls as well and elbowed Will "You really have your pick, don't you?"

Will kept his gaze forward and down with a shrug of his shoulders. Will had had his times of sexual indulgences while he was traveling abroad, hoping to relieve the emptiness he felt, or rekindle some kind of feeling that he knew he had buried inside the hard shell of his heart – but nothing, no woman ever helped or cured. "I suppose."

Felix threw his head back and scoffed a little at the young man's less than eager attitude "You _suppose_? Well don't suppose too long, they won't look that enticing forever, you know." Felix turned his head and smiled with a wink at the young ladies. Now it was their turn to avert their eyes, with an added grimace.

Will saw their reaction and laughed a little to himself. "I don't think a woman would help to uncomplicate my life as it is now."

Smoothing the wisps of hair on the top of his balding head, Felix tried to brush off the slight embarrassment of the girls' rejection. "Maybe not a woman, but a few good fucks couldn't hurt." He said almost matter-of-factly.

The auction was not hard to spot. There were men gathered around the platform from just about every walk of life, some looking for a laborer to work their fields which would mean a hefty price, others for a weaker, cheaper person to do household duties, and then there were those who were in the market for a slave to perform more erotic duties – the most expensive of all. However, the richer, noble class of citizens made up the bulk of the populous in the participating audience of the auction. Felix made his way to the side table of the platform where he would finalize the purchases and transactions that would shortly take place. Will moved away from the masses of men towards the side of the small stage, trying to stay out of the way of the eager buyers and general bustle of the place. Just behind the presenting platform for the auction was a tall, narrow building that was Felix's business residence, and where he assumed the enslaved people would emerge. Will had never had any qualms about the institution of slavery. His mother had owned slaves, he had grown up around people who all had owned them, and Aemilia, one of his most trusted and oldest friends was a slave herself – slavery was a part of life that was foundational to Rome's Imperial existence, just as it had always been. It was only when the master abused his responsibilities as a protector and caregiver did Will feel repulsed. Much too often did he see or hear examples of this cruelty in the form of a beating, a mutilation, a humiliation, or a general disrespect of a person's being for him to ever take for granted his own freedom as well has gain more respect for those who served…not to mention a deterioration of respect for the slave owners who inflicted such travesties.

Sooner than he had expected, a tall man in a bright red and yellow tunic and cloak stepped up onto the platform and without much ado, began the auction. A movement from behind the stage caught Will's eye. From where he stood, away from the rest of the mass, he could see where the slaves were lined up, awaiting their presentation. A line had formed of chained, soiled, bruised and tired faces. They were brought up one by one, each with their hands bound in shackles, each with a plaque around their neck, stating their attributes and credentials. So far every one of them had been of the male gender, and so far all of the younger, handsome, childlike ones, had been bought up quickly by the wealthy, older, patrician men in the front of the crowd. There was no doubt that these boys were being purchased for the sole purpose of the men's sexual pleasure. The slightly older and healthy male slaves were bought by the still considerably wealthy farmers who required hand and strong back. Will noticed with a curious eye that there was no middle aged or old men available for sale – as he quickly concluded the reason, to himself, was no doubt because the brokers knew there would be no good profit for any frail old man, and the prisoner slave was more than likely quickly executed for his uselessness.

Once the male slaves were bought, registered, and dragged away, half of the crowd that had gathered for the auction had dispersed, either having already made their purchase or losing out on their bids and dejectedly going back home. Still, Will was at his spot at the side and angled to the stage so that he could see the space in the backstage as well as the platform for presenting. It was at this point that Will saw her… standing in line…fourth from the back. The light was dismal from being hidden behind the long shadows of the tall buildings and the raised stage in the middle of the square, but he could see enough to trust his eyes. Her feet were bare, her wrists were shackled and chained together, her wool tunica was probably once a dull tan but was stained a reddish brown color of dirt, sand, and blood – sleeveless, and ripped off just above her knees. However, all of this was something that Will took into account secondarily to what initially had held his eye: her face. She was pale white, a creamy color that made her fierce brown eyes contrast sharply against her skin. Her hair was a honey gold color, something that any Mediterranean or Roman person would be fairly unaccustomed to, and hung loosely, curled and tangled down her back and around her delicate shoulders. Her body was lithe, but strong and smooth. The atmosphere around her seemed to be that of a threadbare queen…but a queen none the less because she seemed so out of place around the other young women among her. Sure, they were all in varying degrees of feminine allure, but this young woman was something sent from the gods. Her elegantly defined jaw was raised ever so slightly which gave her an air of invisible confidence. The woman's cheekbones were pronounced, even if the right side looked slightly discolored from bruising. And her lips….her mouth… she was arresting. No, he balked at himself for the understatement, she was beautiful.

Where had his resolve gone? She was a woman, she was a slave…she was…she was…bewitching.


	2. II: Country of the Barbarians

The auctioneer's voice seemed to drone on in some incoherent lull in Will's ears. The yells of the crowds heckles, jeers, and bids were almost dreamlike and vacant as he continued to look upon the young woman in the shackles. She didn't look afraid or nervous, but calm and defiant. The other women around her were quite the opposite: some were weeping, others were downcast with their mouths moving in a quick undecipherable tongue, some were silent like _her_ but their eyes betrayed them – they were terrified.

Will's relaxed stance against the wall had straightened and alerted once he had seen her. Now he was moving slowly, almost cautiously further around the side of the platform into the shadows, attempting to get a better look at her. He noticed then that none of the women wore plaques like the men had worn previously. Instead they all had black charcoal numerals on their tunicas. _Her's_ was XXXVI. She was thirty-sixth out of ...how many? How many of these tear stained faces were brought to the market today? Suddenly he felt a pang of guilt shake through his chest. He was here to buy a human being, like a man buying a sheep or a yard of cloth. Who was he to purchase another person? … Because he was a Roman? … The tables could've been easily turned if Rome had not obtained such unmatched power, and he would've been the one chained and sold at another land's marketplace.

The line was moving. While Will was distracted with his musings and thoughts the line had been moving and the women ahead of _her_ had been sold already. She was next. _She was next._

One of Felix's men, a handler, grabbed her arm and hauled her up the few steps that led to the middle of the platform. She never looked at the man that grabbed her, she never looked at the auctioneer when he was placed her his hands. She stumbled slightly when he jerked her to stand next to him, but her demeanor never faltered. Her chin was held high, her jaw set, her eyes were directed down, but not in shame or fear, but in a look of strength and opposition. Will stood frozen, watching as she was brought into the sunlight, put up on the stage before him and listened as the yells of the crowd that had previously been muffled by his own clouded mind were suddenly and extremely loud.

"Why," cried a salacious commoner crudely reaching across the platform that separated the human merchandise from those who had come to buy, "she must be a descendant from the gods! Is she a goddess come to mock us poor mortals here?" He tugged at her tunica, trying to raise the skirt to appraise the bargain.

Instantly the auctioneer slapped the commoner's arm, hard, with a leather whip. The blonde girl took a step back, but still in the auctioneers grasp.

"She's human enough," he snorted. "Here, look you Roman citizens!" he ripped one of the shoulders of the garment, letting it fall from her breast. She tried to reach up to either hide her body with her hand or hold the strap together again, but the auctioneer yanked her arm down. For a second while she stood there, half her chest exposed to the lustful eyes of the crowd she looked so young, so helpless, but the look soon vanished from her face and she stood defiantly once more.

The crowd of men continued to murmur and talk amongst themselves, leaving Will's paralyzed mind to pick up a few snippets of their general consensus: "blonde hair, beautiful, ivory skin, in my bed, so fair, amazing, fuck her, young, soft…." He didn't want to hear it anymore. Suddenly Will broke himself from his astounded and numbed state. He heard the jeers from the men, he saw the look on their eyes, their hands going to their money belt, their eyes roaming her body… He had to get to Felix and tell him that _she_ was the one that he wanted to – to purchase. His spellbound and sluggish mind began to turn again. Felix was on the other side of the crowd, the other side of the market, at the table. He had to get to him before one of these other men had a chance to stake his claim on her. He wasn't sure what the exact reasoning was for such conviction… all Will knew is that he felt a strong and ardent desire to –save- her.

"Where did such a fair creature come from?" cried one old lecher in the mob who customarily bought the young girl slaves for his own sexual play.

"From Brittania, the far north country of the barbarians. She was captured by Caesar's legions and shipped, as you see her, to Rome," explained the auctioneer—his mind already building the pitch for a higher bid. "Come now gentlemen! Make your bids! Let her warm your bed for you!"

A roar of laughter and agreements went up into the stale air of the square. Will was already pushing himself between the sweating and indulgent bodies of the crowd. As he pushed and retaliated against the resistance of the men they looked at him disapprovingly and offended. He could see Felix reclining in his chair behind the table of documents just finishing with one of his clients who also had a blonde girl in his arms, taking her away.

"Felix Antonius! Felix Antonius!" He tried to yell above the people around him, who, he noticed before, were just as captivated by _her_ as he was.

The man looked up and saw Gullielmus Faberius struggling through the people, yelling and waving his arm to get his attention. Felix stood and gave the young man a questioning smile.

"Felix Antonius, the girl – the woman, on the stage - I would like to purchase her with my father's money." He said in a rush, slightly winded.

Felix looked at the girl, beautiful no doubt, he couldn't but let his eyes glaze over at the sight of her. But he also saw the crowd's reaction– their catcalls, their arms raised in the air yelling out their bids…it was obvious this one was very popular. And popular meant a higher bid; a higher bid meant more money in his own purse. However, he had made a promise to this young man, his initial hesitance about the subject obviously gone.

"_This _one…are you certain?"

"Yes, her. I'm positive."

Felix grimaced and looked up at the stage once more. He couldn't blame the boy – look at her! He smoothed his hand over the wispy hairs and shook his head. He was going to loose a lot of profit on this girl…but….

The girl's feet ached, her wrists burned from sweat and dirt rubbing into her raw flesh, she could feel the layer of blood, sweat, and grim over her skin as the men's hands roughly handed her up the steps to one another placing her in the center of the platform. She was weak from hunger already, but the fatigue was beginning to set in as she was shoved across to the man in the brightly colored tunic. She stumbled but was brought upright roughly by the man next to her. She reminded herself over and over 'be strong. Don't let them see you falter. Be strong.' – she would rather die than see these pigheaded men think they had gotten the best of her, or beat her down. A young man with the short brown hair and black toga, who was still standing away from the crowd, near the line of the other slaves, caught her eye. He looked at her with such bewilderment and unabashed interest that it was almost innerving. Just then one of the men who had crowded around the foot of the platform reached out and grabbed the bottom of her toga, trying to lift it up. Immediately, she jumped back and had to repress the reflex to kick or hit the man's hand away – but she was beat to the punch by the auctioneer anyway, who used his whip to fend off the molester. The girl glanced to the auctioneer next to her, thankful for his salvation, but soon he was the one to offend her. "Here, look you Roman citizens!" And sooner than she had time to react, he ripped the shoulder of her tunica, making the garment fall from her chest. She knew the men had a good look at her body from the murmurs around the crowd but when she attempted to meagerly cover herself the auctioneer thrust her chained hands back down to her side. Again her flesh felt like it was on fire, possibly down to her bone from the iron shackles and she winced, but quickly rearranged her features into an unreadable mask.

Once more, the young man in the black toga drew her eye. He was now moving across the square, hurried and restless. He was encountering some resistance from the closely packed bodies in front of the platform but over the yells and bids he was waving his hand, calling out to someone across from him. All she could hear was the auctioneer's ramblings and the men's loud and gruff voices droning on and on…calling out their money offers, lewd suggestions and laughter. Soon, she thought, too soon I will belong to one of these greedy, over indulgent, sickening old men. I will be chained to their bed, locked in their chambers, at their beck and call for every sexual whim. The mere thought of it made her stomach churn, even if there wasn't a speck of food for her to regurgitate. How did she get here, so far from home? How did it get this bad?…..She knew. She didn't want to think of it.

"Cornelius!"

The auctioneer stopped his prattling and turned towards Felix.

"Close the bidding. This man has bought her."

The crowed was silent and every eye in the square, including her, stared at Felix. Then all at was, as if on cue, it erupted.

"You can't be serious!" "I have the money right here!" "Continue! Continue!" "This is not fair" "Felix Antonius you crook!" "Give her to me!" "Curse you!" "Hand her over!"

Felix went up on the platform and raised his arms, attempting to quiet the boisterous and riotous crowd. "Gentlemen Gentlemen! This young man has purchased the girl fairly on a previous agreement of price. We have many more girls lined up for the auction that would no doubt be just as pleasing in your bedroom. Let us continue the auction good citizens!"

The girl put a bit of distance between her and the auctioneer, taking this moment of confusion and distraction to step away from the post that the man had placed her at. She allowed her shoulders to slump, her head to drop, just a little, and let the façade fade for just a moment…because she saw the handsome young man with the dark hair and black toga standing next to Felix, the man who had called out to the auctioneer. For a moment, a split second – she allowed hope to fill her chest. At least he was not twice her age and sickeningly obese like most of the men in front of her. It was certainly not her choice to even be purchased by any of these men, but if it was to happen, he would surely be the best she could ask for, especially if he at least would treat her fairly. Felix continued with his speech to placate the men, and for the most part was successful as another young woman, number Thirty Seven, was led up the stairs by the handler. How easily their attention was diverted.

The girl was led down the steps by Felix towards Will. He could not help but stare at her. She met his eyes for a moment, appraising his face and expression, then once again put on the mask of indifference as her eyes moved to the cobblestone ground below her bare feet. She could not allow this hope to go too far. He was still a Roman, he was her 'Master'. She did not know his character – but when he looked at her with such adoration, she couldn't help but let her chained heart soar just a little. Such warm brown eyes, flawless tan skin. He was clean-shaven and his hair was cropped short, but with the hint of curl at the ends on the back of his neck where it had grown a little longer. His high cheekbones and square jaw made his face appear chiseled from stone. This man, her master – it seemed now, was handsome to be sure.

Will suddenly realized that the dim light behind the platform and the distance of her on the stage did not to her complete justice. She was even more beautiful than Will had previously thought. His breath caught in his throat and he found himself in the same state that he was in when he was a 12 year old pre-pubescent boy around a pretty face of a girl from town. But this was not just a pretty face, it was an alarmingly beautiful face of a woman whom Will did not know: nothing about her past, her family, or even her name….but she was _his_, quite literally.

Will finally noticed that she was struggling to still keep her garment pulled up on her body where the auctioneer had torn it from its seams. Without hesitating, Will untied the knot on the shoulder of his toga and unraveled the black garment from his body, twirling it around, and very slowly guiding behind her back and across her shoulders. The girl gave him an obvious look of confusion and contemplation of his kindness, but obliged him by wrapping the fabric around herself securely. She still did not meet his gaze again.

Immediately two men came bounding towards the three of them, one of them pounding their fist on the frail table. "Listen here Felix Antonius, I was in the lead of that bidding and I could've gone higher! She should belong to me! …. Mark my words, you will not hear the end of this!"

Felix put on the face of the businessman and again began to sooth the angry customer. "Brutus Tullius, she was bought fairly. We – " he said, gesturing towards Will – "had an agreement prior to the auction and this is the slave that he chose. There is no debate in that! I am sorry that you feel that you were cheated but I swear to you that any of these other young women will do the job credibly. Please, continue with the auctioning – an interruption like this will not happen again."

Brutus grumbled, still not completely happy with the situation but progressively compliant, and turned towards the cheering, bidding crowd where he had come from. The second man, tall and trim, came with a bit more of a professional and calm demeanor, but just as disagreeable as Brutus and until now had been standing aside quietly. Felix now turned his attention to him, with the same complacent business smile as before. "Iacobus Nortanus…something I can help you with?"

"I was prepared to pay a steep price for her, you know." He said lowly, glancing over to the blonde girl who stood a couple of feet away. The girl immediately recognized the man before her, her face flashed before her mind's eye, recalling the night she was taken into the legion's custody...

Felix nodded and kept the smile plastered on his face. "Yes, I'm sure you were…but as you heard me tell Brutus Tullius, this deal is sealed with Gullielmus Faberius Cicurinus here, and all is final."

Iacobus turned to face Will with a small smile. "You're Senator Gullielmus Faberius Laternisis' son?"

"I am" Will replied, a bit cautiously considering the man's response to his name.

"I'm Tribunus Iacobus Nortanus Metallus. I…. knew…your father." He said, still with the curious smile playing on his lips.

"Good to meet you Tribunus. I hope there is no hard feelings concerning today's events." Will amended very diplomatically. Perhaps he was his father's son after all. This man was an Officer in Rome's legions and knew the Senator, probably a good friend to have, he reminded himself.

Iacobus looked over to the girl, who immediately dropped her eyes, doing everything she could to not draw attention to herself. She was sure he knew who she was, and he couldn't be sure if he realized that she recognized him as well. She ever so slightly moved her body behind Will who was between the Officer and herself.

"No hard feelings, of course. Merely very…disappointed." Iacobus stated slowly, with his hands languidly behind his back turned and began to walk away. He almost made his way around the corner where escort was waiting before he stopped and turned his head towards them. "Oh, and it was nice to make your acquaintance Gullielmus Faberius. I'll be seeing you soon, I'm sure." Then he continued on his previous path, and out of sight. The girl relaxed minutely and looked down at her fist that was holding the toga to her body. Her knuckles were white. She released her grip a little and let the blood flow back into the joints in her hands, turning the bones from white to an angry pink hue.

Felix chuckled and breathed a sigh of relief. "You'd think he'd let the past die by now."

Will turned to him with a questioning look. "The past?"

"You really don't know much about your father, do you?"

Will looked down, momentarily ashamed of the obvious ignorance and shook his head.

"Tribunus Iacobus Nortanus was up for the senate the last time your father ran for the seat. But Tribunus just didn't have the popularity your father did…he's a rather unapproachable kind of character. So he lost to your father – which meant, since he lost, again – he couldn't run for another five years. Needless to say I think he's still a little bitter."

Will turned and looked in the direction in which Iacobus disappeared a moment before. Now he knew what that curious little grin on his face meant.

"I would suggest though that you get this girl out of here and back to your home before you cause any more of a ruckus out here." Felix grumbled, inclining his head slightly towards the crowd behind Will where the auction had continued. A few lingering eyes at the edge of the mass were still finding their way to Will and his purchased slave. The girl looked behind her too and saw some of the men who were leading the bids still had their heads turned in her direction. She shifted her weight uncomfortably.

"Yes, you're probably right…What do I have to fill out?" He asked gesturing to the parchment on the table.

"Oh let me see here…" Felix spoke to himself, sitting back down in the chair and shuffling through a few of the documents.

Will took this moment of relative placidity since he officially made his purchase to formally acknowledge the person standing next to him. He turned and smiled at her…he wasn't sure if he should extend his hand, or just state his name? perhaps ask her her name? … he was at a loss…but just then she looked up at him, seeing him shift from the corner of her downcast eyes. She tilted her head, in a very curious, cautious, and questioning sort of way. She could tell he was struggling to say something, and frankly she thought it was endearing. This was the first Roman man she had met who was actually conscious and respectful of her presence and hadn't laid a hand on her, not even when he placed his toga on her shoulders.

"I-I'm Will" he stuttered, his voice not sounding like his own.

She looked away quickly and he thought he could see a grin on her lips, but couldn't be sure.

"Here we are!" Felix broke in, not noticing the exchange between the two of them. "This is the only information I have on this one. She hasn't said one word since she's been taken into the soldier's custody…not even in her native tongue! So we cant be certain if its stubbornness, or if she's a mute…who knows, she could just be an idiot!" He laughed.

Will glanced over at her and her posture and expression did not change. She seemed to be articulate and alert from what Will had seen so far – then again, his judgement had been extremely clouded by her appearance thus far. What he really wanted to know his how she came to be put in the soldier's custody in the first place…

"We do have a name on record though. One the other Barbarians that was captured had called her 'Elyrch' and she responded…and I'm told that apparently that's her people's word for a swan." When Felix looked up from the document he had a smirk on his face and his eyes roamed over the girl once more. "Swan…" he looked over to Will. "Fitting, isn't it?"

"Uh… perhaps I could finish reading the information for myself…and any of the other documentation you need I could send to you tomorrow." Will offered. It made him very uncomfortable for this man to continue to talk about her in his way while she was standing in front of him. If she didn't speak Latin or not, it was uncalled for and the behaviour of the bidders and atmosphere of the auction in general was beginning to wear on him.

Felix laughed heartily and stood up from his chair. "Ah I know what's on your mind, eh? Want to get home quickly!" he slapped a hand on the young man's shoulder. Will humoured him with a grin and nodded slightly. He rolled up the documents and information on number Thirty Six and tied it securely with a piece of twine. He then reached in a small wooden box that was sitting in the corner of the table and drew out a long, iron key. Roughly he grabbed the girls arm. She resisted at first to his forceful handling, but realized quickly that she was finally going to get the cursed shackles free from her wrists. The sound of he cogs turning inside the lock seemed to reverberate in her ears. The iron chains fell to the table with a 'clunk' and her arms felt like a thousand tons was lifted from her tired muscles.

Will's mouth went agape at the sight before him. In a two inch diameter around her thin white wrists was a raw band of flesh, half bleeding, half scabbed, and partially infected. He closed his mouth quickly and clenched his jaw tight. This was ridiculous. Surely there was no reason for them to give this girl such unfair and almost tortuous treatment. As quickly as he could, Will thanked Felix Antonius, shook his hand for a second that was necessary, then grabbed the documents lying rolled on the table. The girl inspected her hands, forearms and wrists carefully but swiftly noticing to her relief that her previous worry of the iron scrapping her to the bone was false, close, but false. She let a sigh of relief escape her full and dry lips. She also saw the look on the face of the man who called himself 'Will'. She saw first the hurt, and the pity, then the anger and resentment towards the man on the other side of the table began to settle across his eyes. He said his goodbyes quickly. Then he turned towards her, his face relaxing, cautiously he extended his arm, and barely touched the back of her shoulder. He inclined his head in front of them, as if to lead her along. She hesitated for a moment, knowing that if she followed this man he would lead her to his home, and she would indeed belong to his residence. Her feet made the decision for her as they began to slowly, with gaining confidence, moving to Will's side. The two of them walked through the marketplace at a slow, but comfortable pace. Will glanced from time to time from the corner of his eye. She caught his eye the third time and he diverted them quickly, a little embarrassed that she had seen his attention.

While they walked, She mused to herself: Little did these cantankerous, arrogant, and haughty Romans know… was that she _could_ speak Latin. She had understood every word that had been spoken to her, at her and about her since she had been captured and taken into custody. The fact was simply that she didn't feel like obliging these insidious men with the grace of her acknowledgment. When they asked her a question she did not give any inclination that she had heard them. When they beat her for not complying she continued to remain silent as the grave. Silently she questioned her resolve on how much longer she could keep up this act. The man at the table had told Will that her name was Elyrch…. Her father's pet name for her. Her father, the man he had so ignorantly referred to as 'another barbarian'…her father, who's dead body now lay at the bottom of the cold sea.

She wondered if she should tell her master her real name – if he would care to know…. Perhaps if he was as kind as his warm eyes portrayed him she would inform him that her father wasn't a barbarian, but a kind gentle, educated man, her mother had had a strong spirit and a lovely singing voice, when she was a child she longed for a brother or sister to play with her, that she enjoyed lying in a meadow of tall grass on a summer's day, and that her parents had named her Eilis, but the Roman's in Brittania she had grown up around had called her Elizabeta.

**Thanks for the reviews so far!**

**Here are a few quick notes about this chapter:**

**If you couldn't tell by the description or name of Iacobus Nortanus – he is James Norrington (Iacobus is the Latinized form of James) And his Title - Tribunus is basically the ancient roman is pretty much equal to a very high ranking, calvary officer, who would be the head of his own legion, and would could still continue to climb the political ladder - hence the history with Will's father. Also, I decided to give Will shorter hair, and a clean shaved face mostly because short hair was the widespread, accepted, and 'civilized' style for men at the time, as well as not a lot of facial hair. I personally think that Orlando Bloom looks amazing with any kind of hair cut! ….well maybe not one of those that have shapes and designs sheared into them – but who knows.**

**One last thing I should probably warn you about: I play sports in college and classes are starting up again soon so this story won't always be updated as quickly as the first two have been so far. Just a heads –up.**

**Thanks Again! And R&R!**

**-InnerSmile**


	3. III: Glances

Glances.

So many sideways, long sided, lingering glances followed the odd and unlikely couple as they made their way through the city, and up the sloping hill that over looked the busy Roman streets to the young man's villa. The curious reclusive young patrician clad only in his sandals and tunic while the blonde, pale beauty next to him donned his long black toga. Will could see the onlooker's expressions and could practically hear their thoughts echoing through the shallow alleyways and narrow curbed sidewalks. "_Is the rich Senator's son taking in charity cases now? Who is this girl, why is she walking with him so openly? If he wanted to sleep with her he should go to the brothel like everyone else and not parade her through town_."

A couple of times since they hurriedly left the market place square the girl, Elizabeta, had stumbled, failing to retain her balance on shaky tired legs and bare worn feet. However, Will did not touch her. She would quickly recover herself – never glancing at him for assistance or making any sound of fright or frustration. Will would flinch and immediately move to assist her but held himself back. There was something about this girl, something that he had noticed behind the market place platform - that made her shine. She was tired, worn, and dirty, but she was like a rare bird – a beautiful, rare, caged bird that was now in his possession. He couldn't bring himself to familiarize himself with such an intangible rarity.

He had attempted to introduce himself when they first encountered each other after she had stepped down off the platform and towards Will's awed awaiting gaze – and now he was still struggling to find his voice and dig up enough confidence and courage to speak to her again. She held the same demeanor and countenance that she had while she heard the jeers and cat calls from her perch on the platform – chin held high, shoulders squared, but her gaze fallen to the ground in front of her. She was like a walking contradiction with beauty, poise, and quiet confidence coupled with the threadbare appearance, weariness, and foreign uncertainty that she was undoubtedly coursing through her mind.

Elizabeta tried to move carefully and concisely as to appear stronger than she really felt.

She managed to still stumble a few times despite her efforts, but maintained her pace next to the handsome Roman stranger that was now her owner and master. His glances in her direction made it obvious to her that he was as least concerned enough to have inquisitive interest. However his silence made their footfalls the only communication between them. In her head, she continued to toy with the same idea: should she speak to him? The objections she continued to come up with were enough to keep her silent. Could she trust him? Once he knew she could speak Latin, would he berate her for tricking him and his fellow Romans who brought her here? If there was such a thing as 'having an upper-hand' in a situation such as hers, would she lose it once she exposed her secret?

Elizabeta's eyes roamed façade after façade of the passing buildings. It was nearly impossible to tear here eyes away from the monumental structures surrounding her. Yet the other Roman's that mingled through the streets paid no mind to the marvelous architecture. They passed the Temple of Antoninus and Faustina, House of the Vestals, and moved by the Arch of Septimius Severus – all of which left the girl's head spinning with the grandeur of it all. Once the couple made their way down the main road out of the Forum, the Via Sacre – they passed under the Arch of Titus – and Elizabeta truly saw the ornate craftsmanship of the monument. Faces of the Roman legions were made into a relief into surface of the gleaming stone….along with the broken, sad figures of the captured people. This arch portrayed a scene of Rome's power – of a foreign army's rebellion and swift domination. Her eyes were glued to the relief. Her feet slowed themselves. Her hand hesitantly reached out towards the stone. Will saw her distracted expression and slowed as well. He watched her face then glanced at what had caught and held her attention so ardently.

Elizabeta grew closer to the arch's inner wall, her fingers slowly reaching, but always millimeters from actually touching the surface. Will positioned himself next to her, his head cocked to the side studying her face and reaction. He thought it was curious that she would stop here of all places to show some sort of interest considering all the other wondrous buildings they had passed thus far. No doubt she would be impressed by the beauty of the Roman architecture – why wouldn't she be, compared to the dark, dismal world he believed she belonged to previous to arriving here.

"It depicts the sack of Jerusalem…." He said lowly, making sure to speak in a slow and understandable manner – the way a one would speak to a small child who wouldn't fully comprehend.

Her eyes immediately flashed to his, surprised that he was standing so close, and bothered to help verify her interest. She could also finally see how dark brown his eyes were, and the flecks of gold that were near the pupils…

Will was taken aback when her head quickly turned to face him. His breath caught in his throat and his eyes locked on hers. After a moment she diverted her eyes and again brought them to the artwork before her.

Will watched breathlessly as she continued to reach towards the stone. Two fingers ran across one of the figures – and by his appearance, a Jewish prisoner amidst the Roman Legions who carried treasures and booty from the dilapidated Jewish temples. Her long, pale, slender finger grazed the figure's face… his hunched back… his sandaled feet. He shifted his gaze to her face – it was marred with sadness, a different sort of sadness that he had yet to see during the short afternoon they had spent together. It was a look of sympathy and pity, tainted with a heartbreaking wash of familiarity. He immediately realized that this girl was identifying herself with this imprisoned Jewish man – chained, shackled, defeated, and owned.

Elizabeta had seen Roman art before. In some of the Roman's homes in Brittania had sculptures, mosaics, frescos and paintings of varying degrees of craftsmanship and beauty. She had been exposed to the Roman culture for most of her life, but this scene in front of her – seeing the boasting figures of the Legions carry off golden sacred pieces from the temple, lifted in the air, resting on their armored shoulders, she couldn't help but let her mind flash back to the events that led to her own story of coming here….

Will's attention was snapped towards the road behind them when he heard the large wooden wagon wheels and pounding, clacking hooves on the cobbled stone. A large cart stacked high with bags of grain was barreling down the street towards the Arch - towards them. The Arch only allowed for so much room between its walls at a cart with horses to pass safely. Elizabeta was oblivious to the quickly approaching danger – she was still transfixed on the relief with her hands outreached in front of her. The two large brown horses that were pulling the overloaded cart behind them were a mere 15 feet away. Will looked to her, to see if she was going to make a move. Instead her attention was still not diverted, unknown of the approaching danger.

The whole thing took around two seconds to occur: Will dropped the scrolls, he took the girl by the waist with his left arm – securely pulling her to him, then grabbed the wall with the other hand, pushing him, and her, effectively to the end of the Arch and threw themselves onto the sidewalk next to the monument and the road. The cart passed swiftly, without hesitation.

They both lay there on the cobblestone walkway, gathering a few stares from the passerbys. Will still held himself slightly above her, his arm around her waist. She quickly realized, as the large cart and horses passed by, the reason for his sudden fit and reached one hand up to her chest to steady her wildly beating heart. She looked up at Will who was also still a little stunned and saw his worried expression as he appraised her person for any harm or damage.

"Are you hurt?" he asked quickly

She continued to hold his gaze, then flitted her eyes to his arm that was protectively around her waist. Will followed the line of her eyes and immediately removed his hold. Agilely, he got to his feet and offered a hand to help her up. She tightened the haphazard knot that held the black toga around her shoulders then took his hand and allowed him to assist her. When she stood she saw the couple of documents and scrolls had come unsecured and were lying in the middle of the street, yet managed to be unharmed by the wild cart's path. She hurried over to where they lay, so as they wouldn't scatter further, and began to gather and roll them back up. Will, once he realized what she was doing, moved to her side to do the same. He had managed to grab the three smaller documents while was still gently rolling up the larger scroll and securing the tie. Handing it to him, she glanced up at him and gave a half smile. Will couldn't resist breaking out into a full grin seeing her reaction.

"Thank you" he murmured

She nodded once, then ducked her head again, continuing their walk where they had left off before her pause at the Arch's wall.

Will stood frozen for a moment, looking after her, the scrolls desultorily hanging from his hands and under his arm, still with a fading smile stuck on his lips. Had she just acknowledged what he said? ……Who cares…she smiled. A small smile, but a smile none-the-less.

Without another second of dumbly standing in the middle of the street, Will hastened to her side, down the Via Sacre – now cleared of anyone how might have seen the brush with the dangerous carriage, or the small moment that had just passed between the couple.

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Silas, the head gardener of the Faberius estate was working in the front garden when the two approached the villa. He was pruning the purple irises just off the side of the walk way when he heard the gate unlatch. He quickly stood and wiped his hands clean, dusting off his knees, before moving to greet his young master and the beautiful blonde girl accompanying him.

"Good day, sir."

"Good day, Silas. Where is Aemelia?" Will asked, as he paused to latch the gate behind him. Elizabeta immediately halted, not moving another step into the garden. The villa and all the land around it was beautiful, a calming, an alluring, and charming haven. There were the purple irises that the old gardener had been attending to next to the lilies, oleanders and countless other blooming flowers that she had no word for, but soaked in all their loveliness. She also noticed the supple roses growing along the side of the villa's wall. Her mother used place the dried blood red flower next to her bedside…

"She is in the kitchen, sir. Shall I fetch her?"

Will saw Elizabeta's hesitation and unreadable glances around the estate, so he gently placed his hand on the middle of her back to suggest their entering the house. "Yes, ask her to meet us in my study."

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When Aemelia first walked into the room, she couldn't take her eyes off the young woman sitting in the corner. It was obvious what she was – a slave. Will had been talked into going to the market by Felix Antonius and was cajoled into purchasing this…this…girl.

She set her jaw and moved closer to Will, who was watching her closely for her reaction and listening intently, like a child who brought home a puppy and hoped his mother would let him keep it. "Will…" she sighed, trying to choose her words carefully. "I thought you were just humoring Felix when you accompanied him into town, then you come back with her?"

Will could see that Aemelia was less than pleased and understandably so – he had more than enough servants that he acquired from his father and it was just another body that Aemelia would be presiding over and keeping an eye on as head of the Faberius household staff. He looked to Elizabeta, who cautiously kept her eyes averted and head down – she didn't need to know Latin to know that the tone in this woman's voice was harshly directed at her. Will moved around the table to stand next to Aemelia.

"Mia… you should've been there. You didn't hear the way those men were talking about her. I couldn't just…" he paused, letting his shoulders drop a little. "The auctioneer ripped her tunic, Mia. I didn't want to leave her in their hands."

The older woman could see the sincerity in the boy's eyes. He had a good heart and she'd always known that. But his naivety and gentle spirit had sometimes been his downfall, and in this instance, it certainly didn't help his resolve. She still wasn't pleased with the fact that this girl was now an unexpected member of the already large staff – or that Will had given in so easily… but the girl was a beautifully tragic sight to behold. Aemelia could understand someone taking pity, and wanting to comfort this child.

She looked down then glanced over at the blonde girl. "Well, I certainly cannot be angry with you for having such good intentions…"

Will smiled with relief and took the woman's hand. "Thank you Mia. I knew you'd understand."

"Yes yes." She waved him off in mock exasperation. Then she turned to look at the slave, taking in her rough facade, and grimaced at the treatment that would cause such an appearance. The poor girl…she really was a fair, angelic creature under all the soot and mire. Amelia slowly, considerately walked towards her. Elizabeta's head automatically shot up, seeing what the woman's next move would be. Her face was kinder, softer than it had been when she first walked into the room and took in her presence. Aemelia gently took one of her hands into her own, the other being placed softly on her tired shoulder. Elizabeta looked at her hand in Aemelia's, then glanced up at the woman's warm brown eyes and cautiously gave a small smile.

Aemelia grinned in return. "Come with me dearest, let's get you cleaned up."

As Elizabeta and Aemelia walked out of the room and down the hall to the guest bedroom, the girl glanced behind her shoulder to the boy who still stood next to the table The smile on his face allowed that previously chained heart of hers to feel just a little bit lighter, and move that much closer to something resembling hope.

**Thank you so much for all the great reviews! I'm glad you guys are feeling the story as much as I am. **

**If you have any suggestions on where you'd like the to go, any little scenes you think would be fitting, cute, interesting, nifty - what have you - just let me know, i'm open to just about any ideas. My email is in my profile. (i'm kind of flying by the seat of my pants with this right now)**

**And thank you for being so patient! things have been crazy and i also really want to take my time and write worth while chapters for you guys. **

**R&R as usual -thanks!**

**-Innersmile**


	4. IV: Confessions

The linens were cool and smooth under Elizabeta's nervous hot hands. She sat on the bed in the middle of the room, stiff, straight-backed, and alertly watching Mia move about around her.

The older woman had gathered new linens for the bed already and there was a bowl of warm water, strips of dressing, and salve on the nearby table prepared for the girl's suffering wrists and various other scrapes and cuts. Earlier, the woman had brought her two loves of steaming bread, 3 boiled eggs, an apricot, and a cup of warm, spiced wine that Elizabeta had ate greedily, later slightly embarrassed by her uncouth behavior, but Mia merely smiled gently and continued with her business. Mia had taken her to the guest room instead of the slave quarters that were in a separate building just outside the villa. She concluded by the day's events and the girl's state that privacy and stability was what she needed right now instead of the other slave's prying eyes and questioning looks.

A large copper tub was set up near the opposite window, brimming with warm water and a sponge sitting on the floor below. Mia paused long enough from her bustling about the room to brush a stray hair from her face and take a weary look at the girl looking expectedly uneasy.

"Well, go on then. Take off your…." She hesitated, giving the garment an inspection for a more fitting word, perhaps 'scrap' but settled on taking the less honest and more pleasant route. "…clothes."

Elizabeta obviously had heard and understood the woman, but just for good measure, glanced at the tub and back down at her garment.

"Yes, dearest" Mia soothed, stepping up next to her and pulling her up slowly by her elbow.

Mia removed Will's black tunic from the girl's shoulders and folded it, placing it on the bed. Then she saw the ripped shoulder of the garment fall from her chest. Immediately Elizabeta pulled it up, then stepped back slightly – indicating she would finish the rest without the woman's assistance. Mia put her hands down to her sides and relented, stepping back over to the tub.

Elizabeta stepped out of her garment, gently pushing it from her path with her foot. Her arms wound themselves around her torso, attempting to keep in her body heat as well as her modesty. Mia tried not to make the girl too uncomfortable with her looks but couldn't help but notice, and be a little shocked by how thin she was: Her individual ribs were easily discernable, her hip bones-discolored by bruises on both sides- jutted out, the muscles in her legs, arms, and stomach were obviously apparent. She was naturally lithe and slender to be sure, but this was an unhealthy extreme – no doubt brought on from her captivity. She was one of the most vulnerable yet beautifully breakable things she'd ever seen.

Mia motioned for her to get into the tub and Elizabeta slowly approached and braced herself on the side. She was tired, and her muscles ached, the last thing she wanted was for her weary legs to give out and slip. Elizabeta put in one leg at a time, then gradually allowed the rest of her body to become submerged. The water reached the top of her chest and enveloped tired, worn, shaking body into a warm, snug embrace. She let her muscles relax, her head rest against the brim of the tub, and although she was still a little too anxious to close her eyes just yet – her senses were reacting to the safe environment.

Mia's movement brought Elizabeta back to reality when the woman moved around the tub to grab the sponge on the floor and handed it to the girl.

Again, she began bustling around the room, straightening the curtains, sweeping around the door and in the corners of the regularly unused guest quarters. Elizabeta watched her intently while she dipped the sponge in the water and began to slowly but diligently wash herself.

"So I suppose you're here to stay then." Mia sighed as her back was turned, sweeping. "You know girl, the gods must be looking favorably on you." She glanced over her shoulder then back towards her work. "Master Guilliemus Faberus is a good boy – man." She corrected herself quickly. It was hard for her to remember to think and speak of Will as a man now that he was a head of a household and legitimately on his own in the world. "The likes of you could have ended up in a poor, poor situation today… you're lucky he was there..." As she continued to talk her speech became quicker and more clipped, as it tended to do when Aemelia was perched on her soap box about something. "Now its none of my business, it really isn't, but you should be grateful for a master such as him. He is a good man, you know, a good man… Any slave should be so lucky. I've known Will- Master Guilliemus Faberus since he as a boy and after his mother passed something changed in him, but today…Its none of my business, but today when he came home I saw a bit of his old spirit back in him." Mia finished sweeping and turned towards the girl once more. "If you knew what was good for you, you'd treat him kindly."

Elizabeta listened closely, ready to learn anything she could about the young man who saved her today. Once Mia mentioned that his mother had passed away, she realized the familiar look of masked pain that she so often tried to pass off, was present on his countenance as well. The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fit: Tribunus talked about Will's father at the market place and he was oblivious to Felix Antonius' retelling of Will's Father's past. Will looked out of place because he _was_ out of place. He must be a newcomer to the city, perhaps after his mother died, and maybe never knowing much about his father.

She dipped the sponge in the water for the umpteenth time and ran it across her leg absentmindedly. Her curiosity was peaked more than ever. She wanted to know more… but how do you know more without asking, and how do you ask, without speaking?

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Will sat once more in the courtyard overlooking the city, now with the dying sun caressing the oranges and yellows in the sky. He still donned his white cotton tunic without his toga, yet he didn't seem to notice the chilled breeze that blew up the hill to his villa. His mind was entirely somewhere else…

Will could hardly wrap his head around the way the day had progressed. This morning, sitting in this same position, he was contemplating his parents passing alongside his seemingly dismal existence. Then a man came to his door telling him about one of the last wishes of a dying man to his son: to purchase his own slave of his choosing. How could he have guessed who he would meet there? A woman of another world, a more beautiful, mysterious, alluring world. He had never felt a pull so strong as the one he felt towards her – seeing her stand in line, then up on the stage, and finally brought before him.

Now of course, as she was out of his presence and unable to intoxicate his senses, it was easier to think and flesh out his thoughts. He didn't regret purchasing her – saving her. There was no doubt that if he hadn't stepped up, she would have been left to a darker, more dismal existence. Also, he wasn't fooling himself thinking that he could provide her with all the happiness the world could offer – but he would never purposefully bring her harm, which was more than he could say of some of those men in the crowd this afternoon.

There was just one thing that nagged him and needled him to no end. He knew close to nothing about this girl. She was from Brittania, she was beautiful, she was perceptive and watchful, but she was also unnervingly and curiously silent. She was no doubt out of her element and understandably uncomfortable, and perhaps was unable to communicate in this new foreign language, but Will was resolved to speak to her – and speak to her like the human being that she was instead of the property like she'd become. Even if she didn't understand anything that was going on around her, he wanted her to at least get the impression that she was safe here, and welcome. He owed her that much considering all the events that had take place today.

Will stood from his chair and resolutely walked back to the villa. He went into his bed chamber and found a clean white tunic to make himself more presentable. Of course he'd been with the girl all day in his tunic, but that as an unusual circumstance, after all, it was his mission to make her feel more at home, and less threatened – a more appropriate attire would aid this. After he made the final tie on his garment, Will realized that this was the first time in fifteen days he hadn't worn black. He took a deep breath and gathered that this could be his first step to moving forward, a little bit at a time.

Walking out of his room and a few feet to the next door, he paused, and reinforced his courage to raise his hand and knock on the door. Before his knuckles even made contact with the smooth wood the door quickly opened to reveal Aemelia.

"Will! You gave me a fright." She recovered from her recoil and rested her hand over her jumping heart. Mia then glanced behind her then moved forward, moving Will and herself out of the doorway, before closing it behind her.

"I'm sorry" he apologized, still awkwardly searching for something to say.

Noticing his obvious discomfort and nervous appearance, she finally comprehended why he was standing on this threshold. "Have you come to speak to her?"

He nodded. "Yes, I thought it best. I wanted to make sure she was comfortable." He lamely answered.

Mia's stern face of motherly concern and made an appearance once more. "She's tired Will…and understandably so. I think you should leave her be to rest and speak to her tomorrow." It wasn't that she woman thought it was wrong for Will to be concerned, but she could see that in some way, and she wasn't sure to what degree, Will had formed a kind of attachment to the girl already. The last thing she wanted was for the girl to behave unkindly towards her master, not receive his graces, and make him retreat even further into himself.

Will's head dropped infinitesimally as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Right, yes, of course.

Mia immediately felt guilty for such worries. He was a grown man now, not a little boy for her to coddle anymore. She pursed her lips and touched his elbow. "Fine. Go in and talk to her…but do make it quick, she really is exhausted." Then she turned and quickened to the kitchen.

Will looked after her, still a little flustered about the situation before him. He turned towards the door and once again raised his hand to knock.

No answer

Again he knocked.

Still no reply.

He dropped his hand and his head with one swift movement. Perhaps she was asleep? Maybe she just refused to allow him entrance and had no interest to see him? He turned away from the door… the stopped. No, he was thinking of excuses, any excuse not to face her again. He turned back around to the door. If he just opened it a little…just to peek inside…if she was asleep he would leave… if not then…

He heard the handle click and he pushed the door open just enough for his left eye to see inside the dimly lit room. She was sitting on the bed, her knees pulled up to her chin, her arms wrapped around her legs, as her head turned around to the crack in the door.

All she wanted was to be left in her own presence, something that seemed impossible since her capture. Her body was in a strange limbo of total exhaustion and perturbing unease, making it impossible to fall asleep anytime soon. She heard the knock at the door and her head snapped in its direction from the window. All she wanted as to be left alone, but of course she was in no position to send anyone away. For a moment she was perplexed why Aemelia would knock just after leaving – she had just stepped out a moment ago… but maybe it wasn't Aemelia on the other side of the door… what if it was _him_? She swallowed hard and tightened her grip around her knees. Another knock sounded. She buried her face in the hollow of her legs and body – as if she could _will_ the person to leave. Instead, the sound of the knob turning jerked her attention back into focus. She saw Will's head of dark hair and caramel skin thru the crack in the door. Immediately she straightened her posture and spun her legs around the bed to face him.

Will opened the door further and managed to show a nervous, yet gentle smile. "I um… I hope you like your room." He said, gesturing to the walls around him.

Elizabeth followed his gaze around the room, with its sparse furniture and large windows.

"Well…" he said, stepping further into the room and subsequently closer to her, "I wanted to let you know that if you need anything – anything at all – do not hesitate to ask… Or I mean, let me know." He quickly corrected himself. How could she _ask_? He scoffed at himself. … For that matter, how could she even understand what he was saying?

He then looked up from his consistent gaze on the floor to her bright and inquisitive eyes. For the first time since he entered the room, he looked at her… really looked at her. The light from the window across from the bed was letting in the soft light of the setting sun to the west. Her skin was pristine and washed clean of all the dirt and grime. Her hair was completely let down and combed out, free of any of the harsh tangles and primitive braids that had previously made it disarrayed. Mia must have given her a clean, new toga because this unsoiled cloth hung loosely from her slender shoulders and tied securely around her narrow waist, accentuating her slim frame. The tinge of the bruise around her right eye was still apparent but was underwhelming compared to the obvious beauty in front of him.

Now he was more at a loss for words than when he began.

Then he noticed he was staring, and she still steadily held his gaze. She of course, was curious on why he had come. Obviously he was nervous, but here he was asking her if she was comfortable? Wasn't that what Aemelia had set out to accomplish? Elizabeta continued to watch his struggle for words, eagerly wanting so see where his monologue was going. But to counteract his stale silence, she dropped her eyes for a moment, toying with the frayed edge of her bandage that was already beginning to come unraveled.

Will, still not sure how to continue his visit, and trying to remember why he had resolved to come to her room in the first place, followed her eyes to her bandaged wrists. He stepped closer, kneeling down in front of her, taking a closer look at Mia's handiwork.

Elizabeta's breath caught in her throat, taken back by his sudden proximity and unabashed concern.

Will noticed her sudden change and looked down, dropping his hands, realizing he had startled her. He then decided to slow down, and try again, with a different approach. He stood slightly, then motioned to the space on the bed beside her. "May I?"

She looked to where he had gestured, then back at him, and nodded once. This single gesture bolstered the young man's morale for continuing this visit. She had understood his question… this was progress…and allowed him to sit next to her.

Elizabeta noticed that his demeanor had obviously perked up after she allowed him to sit next to her on the bed. Before, and still a little bit now, he was nervous to the point of nonfunctioning, but now that he sat next to her on the small bed, it seemed that his confidence had returned. A slow, creeping, dark thought seeped its way through her mind: What if he had other motivations for coming to her room this evening? After all, she was his property now, and he was a man. She was not so naïve to the ways of the world to ignore the simple fact of his gender's vice.

Her heart dropped to her knees. She was disappointed in him, but mostly in herself for giving this Roman so much credit. No more than an hour ago she was curious about his past and even feeling a kind of pity for the dark haired, handsome stranger. But now, he had come to her room, naught a half days time from her leaving the auctioning block, expecting her to welcome him into her bed…no…it was still _his_ bed.

She was pulled from her depressing revelation by Will's gentle voice: "May I have a look?"

He was reaching out for her hands, wanting to inspect the bandages, like he had intended previously. She bit her lip, and hesitated for a moment, contemplating her dark thoughts a second ago… but her hands moved on their on accord, and found themselves in his much larger, warmer, and tender grasp.

His nimble fingers inspected the dressings and turned her wrists this way and that, making sure no sore area was left uncovered. Seeing as her left wrists' bandages had not been securely tied and was beginning to loosen, he slowly and carefully began to un-wrap the cloth – eventually revealing her wounds to him. Will couldn't help but take a sharp inhale of breath at the sight before him. He had seen her injury earlier, but it still sent a chill down his spine to see the obvious discomfort she must be experiencing. Mia had applied a thick salve to the area, coating it as it should be, but the sheen and wetness of the balm only amplified the raw state of her skin. After inspecting her injury he wrapped the dressing around her wrist again and secured it with a proper tie.

Elizabeta never looked at her own wrists as they were being inspected; instead she focused on Will's face. He was genuinely concerned. His brow was furrowed and inclined, his lips were tight with unease, and his hands handled her with such care that it brought back dull memories of her mother caring for her when she was a child. She immediately regretted her loathsome thoughts directed towards him not a moment ago.

After his fingers finished tying the knot, she gently pulled her wrist towards herself, pulling his hands along with her, and subsequently his attentions. She didn't want him to remove his touch – _Don't stop_, she thought, _please don't stop._

His eyes, now mere inches away, locked on her own. Their breathing picked up and Will's fingers intertwined themselves with her pale white digits. Her eyes trailed down his face to his slightly parted mouth, feeling his warm breath on her cool, clean skin. She suddenly found herself unable to think straight – his proximity making it difficult for coherent thoughts to form. It was much like earlier in the day when he had saved her at the Arch and ended up laying next to her, leaning over her, his hands on her body… oh, his hands on her body…the revelation startled her.

She pulled away and averted her eyes. Will slowly, but without hesitation sat up straight and let his hands fall into his lap. They both took a moment to calm themselves and collect their thoughts. Will mentally kicked himself for letting things get so intimate. That was not his intentions when he had come to her room, he had meant to welcome her, to comfort her, not to attempt to seduce her! Elizabeta bent her head and continued to keep her eyes lowered but kept him in her peripheral vision.

He cleared his throat and began to speak, trying to clear the thick, heavy air between them. "I wouldn't worry too much about scarring… they aren't very deep cuts." He paused again, then grinned and chuckled slightly at his own memory. "You know, when I was about ten years old, I burned one of my fingers on a hot poker… it was at the smithy in the village… my mother loathed me spending my time there… I can't say that I blame her, it was no place for a child. But I loved to learn, I thought I'd own that shop one day…" As he continued with the story, it became more of a tale to himself than to the girl next to him. He shook his head then realized, as he turned his head to glance at her, that she was intently listening, her head slightly tilted, seemingly eager for him to continue. "I'm sorry," he said, running his hand through his hair. "I suppose my point was that my finger healed just fine, and so will your wrists…" he allowed for another small grin to grace his lips.

Will was surprised how amiably she was sitting in his company, but he had, yet again, allowed himself to be taken off track. Telling his childhood stories about minor injuries he'd endured was not what he had had in mind. He sighed and angled his body towards her, still sitting on the bed. "I – I came here to make sure that you were comfortable…and I want to make sure that you know that you're welcome here. I know that the circumstances by which you came here were not the most favorable…and to be honest, my own actions today were out of character, but I believe there is a reason you came to be with me – us." He corrected himself quickly.

Again he slightly dropped his head and continued to talk, more for himself than for her. "Aemelia…" he sighed, searching for the right phrasing of words. "Mia has always been there for me, I cannot deny her that, but when my mother died, her best friend died as well… I suppose neither of us know what to say or do for the other. That – that hole never seems to get any smaller, and sometimes…sometimes I wish that there was someone to watch over me to make certain I don't fall in…" Again he paused and shook his head, running his fingers through his hair a little too forcefully. His jaw was tight and his muscles suddenly felt stiff. "I've never been to your land… I don't know who your family is… or anything about how you came into the legions possession… but you're here now…my hope now, is for you to feel like this is your home. And one day, maybe, if you ask for your freedom – I'll grant it happily. But give this life here…with me, a chance." With that last sentence, he once again looked into her eyes. There was that familiar sadness welling in them again, the same sadness he found in his own reflection when he bothered to look. He searched her face for any more signs of understanding or comprehension, but realized he could be sure of none. "You probably don't have any idea what I'm saying… Its just that today, with you… is the most I've felt since my mother died. I – I'm sorry…" He sighed, almost spat at himself. "I've said too much, hell – not enough" He said dejectedly. "I've just been keeping myself numb for too long…" He adds as an afterthought, realizing for the first time how calloused his life had become now that he had spoken his feelings aloud. She was the first person he had confessed his feelings about his past and parents. Not even Mia had confronted him directly about his darkened demeanor, and he certainly never offered.

It took all the strength Eliazabeta had not to reach out had comfort him while he was speaking. There was such pain, and sadness dripping from his voice that it made her heart ache. This was a good man, but a very sad and hurt man who needed to be consoled and healed…something salve and bandages couldn't alleviate. They had so much in common, so many misunderstandings and dark holes that had never really been repaired. When he spoke of his past it was almost as if he had taken her own words from her most private thoughts and voiced them allowed with his own pulled heartstrings. Comforting him would be like comforting herself in a kind of doppelganger familiarity. They were strong individuals that resisted the pity of others but ignored the fact that a strong shoulder to lean on was not a sign of weakness. They were broken.

There was a knock at the door.

Will's head that was hung low, with his slumped shoulders, shifted slightly. He knew it was probably Mia coming to remove him and chide him for staying so long. But right now he didn't want to move. He was drained. He turned his head from the door to Elizabeta's tender gaze. She had silently moved closer to him sometime during his speech and was sitting considerably closer to him now, but not uncomfortable, or awkwardly so. He noted, absentmindedly that her leg was close enough to graze with the back of his hand if he just moved it shifted it slightly…

Abuptly, without so much as a moment's notice he found himself being embraced. She had quickly put her arms around his neck, her cheek pressed against his, her chest against his own, and her mouth at his ear. Then she spoke, softly, tenderly: "I'm watching over you, Will."

His body went rigid and her arms pulled back from his shoulders, but not before grazing a small hand over his tanned jaw. Their eyes never left one another's - gauging each other's reactions. His mouth was ajar. Was he that furious he couldn't acknowledge…or at least respond in some way?

Then there was another knock. Both of their heads snapped in the direction of the persistent sound. Will turned his attention back to Elizabeta quickly. He shut his mouth and licked his dry lips, blinking a few times to regain his wits.

"You speak?…you understand…?" Yet he still failed to complete an intelligent sentence. The knob turned and Will immediately jumped off the bed. He had heard her clearly, as clear as a bell – her lips were at his ear – there was no mistaking her words.

Mia appeared with another blanket in tow and a scowl on her face directed at Will. "Master Gullielmus Faberius , i really_ must_ insist that you allow this girl some rest." She chided, as she placed the blanket on the bed.

Elizabeta did not move. She sat perfectly still, keeping her eyes on Will, who in return, never let his gaze waver from here. He was completely confused, befuddled, slightly amused, and completely – amazed. This entire time she had kept the secret.

"Come now, Will- Master, I assure you that she has everything she needs for the evening, let's leave her to sleep." Mia said sternly, pressing a firm hand on his arm pushing him towards the door. She didn't want to give the impression of ordering her master, but she also knew Will needed a bit of firm, motherly hand from time to time to infiltrate his hard-headed nature.

Will was in no state to argue or resist. Since Mia had entered the room he had not once glanced in her direction. Elizabeta alone held his attention. She continued to sit statue still, intensely looking at him from under her dark lashes. Mia continued to push him out the door, she reached behind her and almost managed to pull it to when Will's arm stretched out and halted its movement abruptly. Finally, he let his facial muscles gain back some of their former control and a wistful, amused grin spread across his face. "Goodnight…Miss."

She finally received the confirmation she was waiting for and the breath she didn't realize she was holding came out in a heavy sigh of relief. She grinned as well and gave a slight nod. Mia, still too busy and distracted to notice the exchange, took a hold of the door handle once more and grumbled for Will to remove his grasp. After the door was closed and the only sound in the room was rustling leaves from the trees outside, Elizabeta lay back on the bed and let her head hit the downy pillow.

Her secret was out, her only card was played….and she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt more at ease.

That is, until her dreams came once again to plague her fleeting serenity…

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**Thank you guys soooooo much for all your reviews and support! I had no idea that this story would be recieved so well but I'm really glad you're all diggin' this strange Willabeth journey. **

**For this Chapter I have to thank PiratePN for her support and suggestions! She really gave me a push in the right direction and kept the wheels turning up there *taps head***

**Please continue to review or give me any of your ideas that you guys have that you'd like to see in the story! You're support means a lot to me.**

**Also, in the next chapter i'm planning on opening up a little more of Elizabeta's past - like how she came to be captured. So theres a little preview for you :)**


	5. V: Elizabeta

**I'm so sorry that it has taken me so long to update the story. I had no idea it had been almost 2 months since the last update, but...I guess time got away from me and I'll do my best not to make you guys wait that long again. **

**I want to thank all the readers and those of you who have reviewed so far! You guys are so encouraging and really fuel me to keep writing. I also want to give a big THANK YOU to PirateRN for all her support and ideas. You're awesome! **

**Enjoy! Read and Review! - InnerSmile**

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_Blazing, licking flames were lapping at the night sky. Hooves of the horses were digging into the damp ground. Screams of the children and women were piercing the air and any ear they soared to reach. She felt like her feet were nailed to the pulsing ground, as if she was a mortal turned to stone, damned to hear and see but unable stop the sights and sounds around her. The men in the bronze armor slung their swords and cut down anything in their path. The light of the flames glinted off their polished helmets, obscuring their snarling faces from their victims. The scene before her would slow down, making the people and flames accentuate and exaggerate every wail, scream, and blade swing. Then her surroundings would speed up again, putting everything in an unnervingly swift pace. It ebbed and flowed, quickened and lagged. _

_She looked around her out of frantic helplessness. The sky above was starless and cloudless at the same time – only smoke from the raging fires veiled her vision. Looking down, she saw the dark red liquid running down her hands, dripping from her finger tips and pooling on the ground. She brought her hands up to examine where she was wounded, but saw no lesion. Her head snapped around from left to right, trying to decipher where the blood had come from, and quickly realized that the ground was saturated with the sanguine liquid. _

_Where had it all come from? _

_The dirt, grass, and stone were spawning it. No. _

_It was raining down from the sky. No._

_The blood was flowing, it was accumulating and ebbing towards her. Inch by inch it slithered across the ground and surrounded her, challenging her to move and try to escape but knowing she had no where to run. Again, she was reminded that she was immobile, and the screams were growing louder. She tore her eyes away from the blood that continued to seep in, creating a pulsing perimeter. The houses burned, the livestock ran wild throughout the village, a baby was crying, and the bodies lay strewn in gruesome positions all around her. _

"_Elyrch!"_

_She searched for the person who called out to her._

"_My sweet Elyrch"_

_She saw him. It was her father, naught 10 steps away lying on the ground, while the prophetic, villainous blood slithered and crawled its way towards him as well._

"_Father!" Again trying to will her feet to move but having no success. She struggled and pushed but didn't budge an inch. _

_Her father looked serene and peaceful, as if unaware of the carnage around him. He continued to look straight into her eyes, almost smiling. _

_The horse came quickly, coming full speed towards the supine man on the ground. His sword was already drawn, raised and ready for the deadly swoop. She dare not close her eyes, she dare not look away. The blood that was surrounding him finally closed the space, creeping up over his body, around his torso. The blade came down so quickly it was almost faster than a blink. _

"NO!"

Elizabeta bolted upright, clawing towards the vacant air.

Realization of where she was _not_ came immediately. She was not in her village. Realization of where she _was_ still eluded her. This downy bed and pillow was a welcomed difference to what she last remembered sleeping on. The clean linen sheets smelled faintly of freesia. The window across from her bed allowed the moonlight to stream through and the shadows of a tree's branches to appear from the courtyard.

A courtyard. Yes, the courtyard with the beautiful red roses where she stood with the brown-haired, gentle-eyed, handsome young man. All of the day's events came rushing back. Elizabeta calmed quick breathing and moved her legs over to the edge of the bed, letting her feet come in contact with the cool tiled floor.

Every evening when she attempted to sleep the same images filled her mind. It was the same night, with the same ending: When her village was ransacked and her father had died. The means of which he died were never the same, never really true to fact…some nights he drowned, some nights he burned, other times he was strangled, and like tonight – sometimes his throat was cut… but the ending was always an unchangeable result – she woke up attempting to reach him, never succeeding, brought back to reality by her own screams. Her heart continued to beat erratically. When would this torture end? Why was she being punished this way, of reliving that night over and over? She was always helpless, always watching, unable to prevent or aid – she was a bystander to a shameless massacre.

She smoothed her hair back from her forehead and rubbed her eyes that still held remnants of her nightmare induced tears. She was completely awake now, and even if there was a trace of sleepiness still lingering it was dispelled by her unwillingness to revisit the images that had just haunted her. She stood up and moved to the window, placing her hand on the cool glass pane. She noticed for the first time that the villa sat on a substantial hill above most of the city. She had been a little too distracted earlier in the day to notice.

The room was of an agreeable temperature but her skin felt clammy and her mouth was dry – her throat ached from restraining her tears. Mia had not left a pitcher of water or wine behind her when she left and for a minute Elizabeta almost resolved to go back to the bed and attempt sleep again. In the end, her thirst, impatience, and nerves got the best of her and she elected to walk through the villa to get some fresh air to clear her head and hopefully find a cup of water in the process.

Elizabeta slowly opened the door and slipped her head through the opening, glancing down the hallway to make sure no one was also awake and moving about. She knew there were more slaves than just her and Mia, she had heard Mia speak of them, but it was not her intention to make any of their acquaintances just yet. The moonlight through the windows and illumination coming down from the atrium's opening to the sky allowed enough light for her to move about fairly easily. Her bare feet padded hesitantly down the hall, listening for any creak or groan that would alert her of someone's approach.

She had only seen two rooms of the villa – the tablinum, serving as her new master's study, and her bedroom, as it was now. Other than that she was at a loss of where to go in this large and unfamiliar home. When she came to the end of the hall, she saw a soft light coming from the study. On instinct, she recoiled back behind the wall and listened closely. She heard nothing – no talking or shifting of papers, no quill running quickly across a hard surface. Taking a deep breath and hoping that this bout of curiosity didn't blow back in her face, she stepped back around the corner, staying close to the wall, and made her way towards the doorway. Tilting her head just enough for her eyes to peek into the room, she saw that that there was not a soul in sight. Moving the rest of the way around the doorway, the light source was now visible. A single candle, burned down to the bottom, with the wax running down the sides of the taper holder sat on the edge of the desk.

Walking the rest of the way into the room the faint flickering shadows around the room caught her eye. All around her were marble busts of men, the fresco mural on the wall behind the desk held hues of bright orange, green, and white but in the dim thrown light looked deep red, black, and grey. The names below the busts were unfamiliar and daunting, with many Senators, Equites, Patricians, and Magistrates. Their cold, stone eyes stared out blankly, sternly – but one pair of eyes made her hesitate in her inspection. The face was similar, with small differences in age and wear. The name at the bottom of the sculpture was G. FABERIUS LATERNISIS M F. SEN. TERTIVM… part of the same name that Mia had referred to as her master. However, this man was a Senator. This was the man that Felix the slave-broker was indicating at the market place – this was Will's father.

Elizabeta chided herself for referring to her new master by such a familiar term…Mia, who he apparently had grown up with didn't even call him by such a name. But "Will" was how he had introduced himself so nervously and endearingly in the market…such a warm smile, gentle eyes, a smooth velvet voice…She quietly cleared her throat forcing herself to cleanse her thoughts. But while she was here, she thought, this would be a good of a time as any to find out a little bit more about Gullielmus Faberius.

Turning to his desk she took the candle and pushed it a little further towards the papers strewn across the table top. One of the small scrolls lying on the corner, she realized, was a death certificate. Squinting her eyes for the dim light and small writing she saw that it was recording the Senator's passing. His family members listed mentioned only Williemus Faberius Cicurinus… Will. – her wonderings of why he went by that name, now answered. Will's place of birth was listed as Rhaetia. It took her a moment to picture a map of the Roman Empire in her mind, but she was fairly certain that the land of Rhaetia was northeast of the Gallia Cisalpina. So her suspicions of him being a newcomer to Rome was true. Mia and Will himself verified that his mother had died not too long ago, and now it was there in front of her – Senator Faberius' death certificate filled out sixteen days ago, by the looks of it. The events in her bedroom began to make more sense. She had been moved by his show of vulnerability and emotion, feeling immense sorrow and a curious connection to the young man…not to mention a pulling attraction. This certificate brought it all into focus. He really was hurting, losing his mother, and now his father, moving to a new land… it was just another version of her own story, with a decidedly more favorable ending. She set the certificate down gently then looked to the other compilations.

Immediately she recognized the papers as the slave documentation scrolls. They were spread and lied out by the paper weights on each of the corners. There were more than one ink wells sitting on the edge, with a tray of quills near by. Will – Master Gullielmus Faberius must have unrolled the documents, perhaps examined and read them before going to bed, and forgot the candle. Or possibly Mia or one of the other slaves grew curious enough to read them themselves. Again she took the candle in hand and tilted it towards the scroll's script to attain a closer look.

The slave numbered _XXXVI__ is of the female gender. Estimated to be__XXIII__years of age. Said slave was removed from the __Isle of Britannia __and was taken into Roman custody in the month of __Sextilis_ in the 24th year of his sacred rulership. The given name of the said slave is _____________ and goes by ___________ . The purchase of this slave was finalized by ___Gullielmus Faberius Cicurinus__ (the buyer) and __Felix Antonius___ (the seller) on day _7_ in the month of __Sextilis_ in the 24th year of his sacred rulership.

[x] The slave is able bodied for physical labor

[-] The slave has some degree of education

[ ] The slave is trained in a trade…type of trade __________

[ ] The slave is able to read

[ ] The slave is able to write

[ ] The slave is a Latin speaker

[x] The slave, if female, is of capable of childbearing

The slave was purchased for the purpose of _____________ and/or ______________.

The slave called ____________, number __XXXVI_ belongs to the household of _Faberius_.

The mark of the buyer _____________________

The mark of the seller __F. ANTONIUS_______

Here was the document that made her slave status legal and binding, right in front of her. It merely made this situation that she found herself in that much more palpable – tangible – unavoidable – unchangeable.

It amazed her how short and concise it all seemed to sum up her life. The only blanks that were filled in were the ones that Felix Antonius had done himself. This was apparent by his assumptions and lack of knowledge. Her name was blank. She wasn't twenty-three, she was twenty years and four months. She _was_ educated. She could read, write, and speak Latin…and for a moment it angered her how dense that pig-headed man had been. Of course they had not met on the best of terms, considering her capture and his line of work but the man gave off the impression of a chauvinistic sloth no matter the circumstances. She noted also that one of the most important blanks was left undescribed… the "purpose" of the slave. If it had, in fact, been her new master who had laid out the scrolls, he had either not made up his mind on her use in his home, or like she was now – unable to wrap his head around the idea of this document's finalization.

Elizabeta glanced at the quill and ink pot to her left and contemplated making the necessary corrections. Would it be such a contradiction to write her name on the document that finalized her purchase as human chattel? Or would it irrevocably bring reality to the forefront to what was really happening these past few weeks? … By her own hand, seal her fate.

Her own hand just as soon as another's, she concluded.

Taking a decided breath, she took the quill and brought the tip to her lips, pressing the hard tip to a sharp point, then reaching over to the ink pot she flipped over the lid and submerged the end of the utensil. She glanced over the document once more deciding on what should be done.

"First things first…" she muttered.

_The given name of said slave is ___Eilis____ __and goes by ___Elizabeta____._

It was so surreal to see her name on the page. The black ink that gathered at the ends of the letters where her quill had paused seemed to be eyes staring back at her, questioning her, glaring at her. Elizabeta drew her eyes away and refused to return their gaze, and instead looked at the previous line above.

_Estimated to be ____XXIII_____ years of age. _

She crossed out the numerals and above it wrote: XX

The candle was beginning to flicker as the wick came down to the last bit of wax - the flame was barely visible. The room still housed the thick shadows around her, the marble busts of the Faberius men all facing her direction. She had crept out of her room with every intention of finding a cool glass of water and discover a peaceful corner in her mind to calm her nerves but instead sat down at her master's desk and filled out her own slavery documentation. It became apparent to her then that perhaps the events of the previous day, with Master Gullielmus Faberius pushing past the crowd to lay his claim on her person was, in fact, her best fortune. And maybe, just maybe, she was beginning to become hopeful of some sort of secure future – as a slave, or a freedman, she wasn't clear. Another quick, bright flicker from the candle and a shadow across the room caught her attention. Her heart picked up immediately and she quickly stood from the table, letting the quill fall from her hand and clatter to the desk. It was the man on the paper – her new master, in the doorway.

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A Few Hours Earlier….

His eyes burned and his lids were heavy. He had been sitting at his desk since he left the girl's room two hours ago. Mia had scolded him to go to bed and get some rest, just as she did every night, and just as _he_ did every night – he couldn't bring himself to relax enough to succumb to slumber. As it were, Will spent more time at night between the veranda and his study than his bed chamber. Tonight though, there were different thoughts and coursing through him other than the darkness he usually experienced. After the occurrence with the blonde girl earlier in the evening, it was as if a veil was lifted from his vision. His chest felt freer, his breathing felt easier, his steps felt lighter, and it was all a welcomed mystery to him. This person, this woman, he did not know made him feel more human than he had in years.

Will touched his cheek in reverence, where her face had been lightly pressed against him, then his ear where her breath had grazed and her words caressed his lamenting heart - her words, her voice, the lilt and inclination her soft accent gave the foreign words while still smoothly gliding from her lips, those mesmeric, enticing lips…

Letting out a deep sigh, Will ran his fingers through his hair. He looked at the desk in front of him and the scrolls lying abandoned from earlier in the day. He untied their restraints and spread them out, placing a weight on each corner to ensure they didn't curl inward. The document in front of him was certainly compressed, but unnervingly candid. Will had never actually purchased a slave himself. His mother had and obviously his father had, but never had his name been on a certificate such as this – the ownership of a person. Her name was blank, and many of her attributes lay unanswered. His own name was filled in by Felix Antonius before they had left the market.

Will continued to stare down at the scroll. It was all daunting, to be sure. The quill tray and the ink wells sat at the top of his desk, beckoning to be put to use for him to sign his name at the bottom of the page. Be a man, write your mark, sent it to Felix in the morning and make it all good and finale. If anything, it occurred to him, it should be easier now to make the needed additions to the document for her to be legally his – after the way she seemed to accept him and her station earlier in the evening. Of course, just like before, it was all a bit surreal and mystical to him even now. Perhaps…he should wait until tomorrow. Perhaps, he could speak with her again and ask her these probing questions concerning her name, education, and abilities. Either way, the scroll had to be copied and sent back to Felix the next day – he had given his word he would do so.

"Sir"

He looked up to see one of the house servants, Arcavius in the doorway holding his candle. Will tilted his head for the man to continue.

"Your bed is prepared, Sir. And Aemelia left some wine on your bedside, as you like it." He continued quietly.

Will noted how docile Arcavius always came across. Will learned that he had been his father's manservant and caregiver in many ways while his father was ill. He was indebted to this fair, soft spoken, middle aged man who so faithfully stayed at the Senator's bedside when the old man had needed him the most. Will stood and straightened his toga. "Thank you Arcavius… you know, I don't think I'll be putting the wine to use tonight, but it was kind of her to remember."

The man smiled and nodded once, waiting for his master to pass him in the doorway before turning his back to leave. Will hesitated as he approached him, while a thought crept into his mind. "Arcavius… you're from Gallia, are you not?"

The man was taken off guard by the odd question. His new master had hardly spoken a full sentence to him since he had been here, and while he had not done or said anything for Arcavius to think ill of him, he was not entirely assured of this master's thoughts on 'barbarians'…as many of the Roman citizen's referred to the foreigners. "Yes Sir."

"Have you always gone by 'Arcavius'?"

"Uh…no, Sir. I was given that name when I arrived here as a boy. My true name is Arcallach" It had been so long for him to say his given name he wondered if he still knew how to pronounce it in his native tongue. If it hadn't been for the anxiety he was feeling for his master's line of questioning, he would have smiled in slight pride for recalling it correctly…as well as fondly.

Will paused, repeating the name in his head, hearing how the sounds came from deep within Arcavius' chest. The pride that couldn't help but swell from his voice as he said his childhood name, the name his mother and father had bestowed on him.

"If I may, why do you ask, Sir?" Arcavius pressed slightly.

He asked because he knew that the blonde woman down the hall was born with a name. He wondered if her name held the same peculiar cadence when spoken. Or if she had already been given a Latin name to better acquiesce and harmonize herself with the Roman expectations. Will glanced at the desk behind him, where the scroll lay. Her name still lay blank – that would be one of the first things he ventured to attain. He turned back to Arcavius and patted him on the shoulder as a reassuring gesture. "Just curious."

"_Williemus, come down right this instant and come eat your dinner!" his mother stood below him on the ground under his favorite Ilex tree. Her arms akimbo, a scowl on her usually pleasant face, made Will cringe even more, if the tone of his voice hadn't already accomplished that. _

_Will turned his face away and hugged his arms around his knees even harder. "No, I won't" he grumbled_

_His mother sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, relaxing from her intimidating stance just a little. "What's bothering you? You've been sour since you came home from lessons."_

_Will was quiet for a moment. He knew what he wanted to say but he knew how the subject would wound his mother as it always had when it was brought up. _

"_Will?" she asked, her voice a bit softer, more pleading, genuinely wanting to mend whatever had made her son draw into his reclusive corner. _

_Again, Will was quiet for a time, then slightly turned so she could better hear him – he knew his voice was not going to be strong enough. "A boy at school said I was a bastard. Three of the others joined in with him… they heckled me the rest of the day."_

"_Oh Will…" she breathed. "Have they been doing this to you often?"_

_He shrugged and dropped his head a little, ashamed he had been keeping it from her, but knew this would be her reaction. "The past month or so…"_

_His mother sighed again and walked closer to the tree, placing her hand on the bark and focusing on is rough surface. "No son, you know that you have nothing to be ashamed of… those boys, those bullies, they have nothing better to do than belittle other people – it makes them feel better about themselves –"_

_She continued talking about the injustice of antagonizing behavior, but Will cut in. "That's not what is bothering me."_

_He was met with a look of curious confusion below him. _

"_Am I a bastard?" He asked simply. _

_She looked down and brushed a stray hair away from her face._

_She had always told him that his father had died before he was born but whenever he brought up his father or asked his mother questions about his character or past she either gave him short, vague answers or avoided it all together. He could feel his frustration building even now, even as he watched his young self perched in this tree as a far off memory. He longed to know anything he could about his father. His grandparents, his uncles and aunts, his cousins and friends, his hobbies and skills – anything at all to prove to himself and anyone else who doubted him that he was not, in fact, a bastard! It was so frustrating not to know exactly where you came from, and it never helped when his mother when mention how much he resembled the man who fathered him. "Mother," he continued after she did not reply. "Mother, please… may we find his parents? Perhaps find someone else who knew him better, who cold tell me stories about him?… mother? He died at sea, did he not? We should make sure! We should find out where he last was seen and be certain! You knew him, didn't you? I want to know too. I want to know something about him, please!… will you let me?"_

"NO!"

His eyes shot open and he lifted his head from the pillow. It was almost as if he heard his mother scream the answer at him – as if it reverberated throughout his whole house. It wasn't exactly like he thought her voice had sounded, but he couldn't blame his mind for muddling up the details.

Lying back down, he drew his arms above and rested the back of his head in his hands, staring up at the painted plaster midnight blue ceiling. The dream he had just had felt like yesterday. He remembered the anger boiling up in his chest, the forlorn, desperate self-sympathy that had finally brimmed over. That day, after she had responded so vehemently, she had turned, and walked back into the house and Will had stayed up in the tree till the sun went down. He was too ashamed to face her again, but of course, the next morning she greeted him with a smile and a kiss, just like every other morning – like everything was forgotten. He knew she had to have a reason for what she did, and he trusted his mother to do right by him. He had never had another reason to think otherwise.

Dozing off and on like this, being between a wake and asleep for while now and he wasn't sure how long he had been in this state. His and ran through his hair again, fed up with the illusiveness of sleep these past couple of weeks. This new home, new surroundings, sleeping in his deceased father's bed – a father he didn't know. So many things in his life felt unfinished… he hadn't been in his father's presence more than a couple of hours before he passed away, and even then he was unable to speak. His mother's death three years ago felt sudden and abrupt even though in the previous months she'd been ill. He had traveled a few distant lands but the stay was never long enough before he found another mode of transportation in search of another thrill, another oddity, another distraction. Now was no different. He had a pile of scraps and notes in a box – somewhere – that held his unfinished, incomplete ideas and notions. Good intentions with no hope of being birthed…

Where was that forsaken hoard of scratch and scribble? It had a crate he remembered moving and stuffing in a corner somewhere when he had his things brought from Rhaetia. Somewhere in there were drawings and designs of his metal workings he had planned on making. There was a tall wine rack, a wind chime, an intricate cuff bracelet, and more than one sword and dagger design. Swords had always fascinated him, the art of wielding the sword, the beauty of the iron and bronze one molded into shape. All of these things were ideas in his head, some put down on parchment, but never brought to reality. Leaving things unfinished… like the document in his study, like the woman in the bedroom down the hall. He thought back to when he was in his study just a while ago – had he put out the candle flame? He didn't remember blowing out or dowsing the flame after Arcavius had come in. The last thing he needed was a lone forgotten candle catching the house alight and burning down his father's home. Sitting up at the edge of the bed, Will drew his arms back, stretching his shoulders, before standing and making his way out of the bedchamber. When he turned the corner, he could see the faint light coming from the study, and his suspicions were confirmed. Shaking his head at his own forgetfulness, he continued quietly down the hall, not wanting to knock anything over considering how unfamiliar he still was in this home in the middle of the night. Moving into the doorway of the study, he saw the flicker of the dying candle sputter, then come to life again. Something else that faltered then immediately quicken was his heart…there was the person who had ardently been in his thoughts since he had been graced with her presence the previous day - his new slave, sitting at his desk.

She quickly stood and dropped the quill in her hand. Her eyes were wide and fearful, knowing she had just been caught tampering with her master's documents in the middle of the night. The light was still so dim; it was hard for her to see his expression. Will stepped forward, a slight smile on his face, which seemed to be the automatic reaction whenever he found himself in her presence. His reaction was a little disarming for she hadn't expected him to be so agreeable, much less smile…but the main reason was because of his smile in itself. He was one of the most attractive men she'd ever seen. His hair was in slight disarray; his bare torso was exposed while he wore his bedclothes tied around his hips, not to mention those dark brown eyes and warm smile that seemed to shine straight from the heavens.

He wasn't quite sure what to say. She was in _his _office, obviously writing or defacing one of _his_ documents, but he just couldn't bring himself to feel the least bit angry – though it was the middle of the night. "Sleep eluding you also?"

Looking away and trying to find her voice, hoping that if he was out of her sight for a moment, she could remember how to speak. "So it would seem."

The thrill of hearing her voice again was intoxicating. He wanted to keep her talking – he _needed_ to keep her talking. "I um…. I have a difficult time staying asleep these days. You see… I have these dreams sometimes, and I guess – well I guess I cannot bring myself to feel at ease." He finished with a light shrug, hoping to make the subject appear less weighty than it really was. Taking another step forward, so that he was directly across the desk from her, he continued. "What has you awake at such hour?"

What was it about this man that made her feel so tranquil? Her mind could be racing at the speed of the wind in a storm but as soon as he looked at her with such disarming attentiveness she felt all her self imposed restraints lifted away. "Much the same ailment…dreams – nightmares." she corrected herself "And general restlessness, I think."

She saw a look of slight sadness and confusion flash across his face and she immediately felt guilty for mentioning it in detail considering her comfort was the sole reason he had come into her room earlier. "But – its nothing to do with my accommodations or lack of effort for my comfort, I assure you. Aemelia and…you…sir, have been very welcoming."

Will was momentary stunned by her lengthy yet articulate response. He knew by now that she spoke Latin, but had no idea to what extent. Obviously she was very fluent in the language. "Good, I'm glad of it." He said, holding her gaze for a moment. "Not about your nightmares! … of course not." He corrected quickly, extending a hand out in a consoling gesture. "I meant, about your room."

Elizabeta smiled a bit at his obvious nerves, that was one thing she could read plainly from this man. "Yes, I wanted to thank you earlier when… when we were in my room, for your kindness, but I did not take the opportunity before we were… well...."

"Interrupted." Will finished for her. He laughed slightly and sat down at the chair across the desk next to where he stood. "Yes, Aemelia always seems to have a knack for opportune moments… she means well though."

Elizabeta eased back down in the large chair behind the desk, following Will's lead, still watching him for any change of expression or tone of his voice that alerted her to his ire of the situation. "She speaks fondly of you. I can tell that she cares for you very much, like a mother would for her son."

Will slightly dropped his head and ran his fingers through his unruly locks. "Yes, she does" she spoke softly

Immediately she saw his despondent reaction and quickly reached across the table and put a gentle hand atop his. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to…" she wasn't sure how to finish, but it didn't matter because Will knew what she was attempting to say.

He looked at their hands on the table, one over the other, the contrast of her – soft and white against him, rough and tanned was one of the most sensual and comforting things he'd seen or felt. "No need to apologize" He smiled helpfully. He knew she felt guilt for mentioning his mother, but with his dream so fresh in his mind it was still tender to mention. "Tell me… you said it was nightmares that robbed you of sleep tonight, what was it that frightened you so to find solace in my study?"

His question, she could tell was asked out of curiosity and an attempt to alleviate her night time fears, but there was a slight humor that laced the end of the sentence, much to her relief. "My intention when I left my room was not to find your study, but find a drink of cold water…But it saw the light coming from this room and as it always seems to happen to me, my curiosity won over." She said sheepishly, looking from under her lashes to appraise his reaction to her explanation.

"I admit that I would probably have done the same." He chuckled. "But I left the candle burning on accident, that's why I came back..." He said lowly, feeling the small awkwardness now that he he had brought up the reason for why they were in the same room - his forgetfulness and her boldness to come into his study in the wee hours of the morning. Will sighed and shook the thoughts away, wanting to bring the focus back on her. "Now," he prompted, "about your dream…"

She took a deep breath and set her lips. Her mouth began to move on its own accord. "My father was there. He is always there in my dreams. To see him now makes me feel so helpless…I want to go to him, to wrap my arms around him, for him to tell me that everything was going to be alright…" Her voice caught in her throat, making it difficult to talk without the lump growing. She did not want to cry in front of him, especially over something like a dream.

Now it was his turn to be the one of comfort her. He mirrored her previous actions and put his hand gently over hers. "Is your father passed?" He asked quietly

She nodded. "Before we left."

"I'm sorry… I know how you must be feeling right now." He continued. And honestly he did. Not a minute before were the same emotions she felt now pumped through him. "If you would like to talk about it sometime… I will listen."

With the burgeoning tears now beginning to settle she trusted her voice to not betray her. Elizabeta knew he was familiar with the loss of losing a beloved parent, but she did not yet want to burden herself or him with speaking of the circumstances of her father's death just yet. "No need to apologize." She looked up at him, knowing she was only repeating the words he had said to her. "But maybe another time, but thank you…sir."

"Will." He lightly corrected her.

Her brow furrowed a moment before she realized that he was telling her.

"I would like for you to call me Will." He grinned slightly

She couldn't help but smile a little. This was the name he allowed people who he was familiar and comfortable with to address him by. And that grin, was too charming not to lift her spirits.

Will saw her smile and it made his grin grow even further. The candle light gave her a soft golden glow, her clean white toga and skin made her look as if she was glowing, her soft honey eyes shined in the firelight and her face was perfect – so pure and so stunning it made him consider that he could possibly be conversing with the goddess of beauty, Venus herself. He took this moment, while he was so encouraged to ask her one of his most pressing questions. "And by what name may I call you?"

She looked down at the slavery document on the desk top, which he had yet to see, or at least to acknowledge. "Elizabeta" she replied simply.

Hearing her voice say her name was like the hearing the soft chords of a harp floating on a summer breeze. Will followed her gaze to the parchment and saw that it was the document which he had brooded over earlier in the night. He saw that a few of the empty blanks were now filled in with a graceful script that was not his own. Getting up slowly and walking over to her side of the desk, he crouched down beside her to read the document from the facing side. Will saw her age corrected – twenty. He saw her given name – Eilis. He saw the name that played against her fetching lips – Elizabeta.

"Elizabeta" he repeated, committing it to memory. She was in such a close proximity to him, all he had to do was slightly tilt his head and their eyes faces were inches apart.

He was not the only one to take notice of their closeness. For a third time since they had been in each others presence, their eyes became locked and melded together, their breathes are mingled and the hearts beating in separate chests somehow sensed the other one so near – and took off at frantic speeds.

"I…I…took the liberty of doing some of this myself." She offered lamely, her voice so breathy she wasn't sure if he had heard her. Now it was her turn to be the one who was so obviously unhinged.

"Yes." He said, just as quietly. "Yes." A bit stronger now, tearing his eyes from hers and bringing it back to the parchment. "I see...I wasn't sure the answer to most of these questions." He continued after a moment, running a finger over the script. She saw his finger stop at the one concerning her purpose of purchase. He paused then lifted the quill in his hand, wetted it in the ink well, and set it to the scroll. "I suppose these can be made certain." amusement in his voice. He marked the sections that professed her ability to read, write, and speak Latin. Will then crossed the line that signified she was uneducated and marked an X off to the side. "That one is obviously inaccurate."

Elizabeta slightly blushed. When she brought her eyes back up to the scroll, she saw the one only ones that was left unmarked… the purpose of purchase for the slave…

"And what of this one?" she asked politely, but boldly

Will had already pondered over this question before and again he drew a blank in his mind now that he was asked right out. He met her eyes and tapped the end of the quill against the scroll. "I honestly had not considered this when I went to the market…and nothing has become any clearer since."

She knew he was being honest with her, she could see it in his eyes. She considered his answer the shrugged her shoulders. "You could always write 'whim'."

He laughed, a real laugh and it made her smile. "I think 'whim' would effectively marginalize my intentions at that moment."

She couldn't help but focus on his mouth as she awaited the answer to her question. "And what _were_… your intentions?"

Will swallowed hard and felt his breathing pick up again. "To… save you." He said simply. And truly at the time that was the only thing on his mind. He saw the reactions she drew from the other men and he knew the types of things she would've been subjected to in their custody…He could not bear it.

She nodded and cast down her eyes. This man had her interests at heart from the beginning. It should've been apparent to her once she had spotted his face in the crowd – his heart was on his sleeve from the start. "It seems we both need to be watched over."

Will slightly smiled. "Yes, what a pair we make."

She smiled back, brushing a lock of hair from her eyes.

"How about…" Will began, a little distracted by the mundane movement of habit she had just made. "We leave it blank for now. Eventually it will have to be specified – for records sake… but it is none of Felix's business what your role in the household is."

She knew that he was troubled by this and she could see that he had either not made up his mind or he did not want to discuss the subject any further since she was the person in question. Either way, she felt the same – she knew it needed to be broached soon, but tonight was probably not the time.

The candle flickered one last time and finally diminished, leaving the couple in the pitch black darkness. The only light was coming from the impluvium that allowed the moonlight to shine in the atrium down the hall. The couple was already in close proximity, and as if on reflex to the intrusive blackness, Elizabeta reached out to Will and took a firm grim on his arm. Will placed his hand over hers and stood slowly, she rising with him. "Come. Mind the desk." He said quietly, as they meandered their way out of the room and into the atrium.

She could feel his thick muscles under the smooth skin of his arm and bit her lip in her lips quick reaction of an attempted smile. So when heir vision improved with the added moonlight and much to Will's disappointment, Elizabeta dropped her hand from his arm yet still remained at his side. The open air was slightly chilly, but the goose bumps on her arms was not from the cool air.

They stood there for a moment in front of each other, neither wanting to be the one who spoke first. Elizabeta shifted her feet slightly, drawing her arms across herself. A sudden yawn brought her exhausted state back to the fore front of her mind. She truly did need sleep, but the events of the past hour or so had effectively distracted her.

"You are a mystery to me…" he mused, brushing a hand through his hair. "But… one that I would enjoy solving, I think." He grinned and noticed how even though she smiled, it was weary and her eyes were slightly bloodshot. She must be past the point of exhaustion and immediately felt guilty for keeping her up further with his prattling. "Perhaps, more questions saved for another time then? You should try and get some sleep" he said in a whisper

She nodded "Another time." She agreed. And honestly, earnestly agreed. Will had been so open and gracious with her, she found herself actually looking forward to sharing her story, and her time with him. "You should make another attempt at sleep too…Will."

He smiled widely at hearing her say his name and she grinned back just as big. "Goodnight Elizabeta" he said, slightly bowing to take his leave.

They both turned and began to go their separate ways down the hall but Will paused and faced her. "Elizabeta"

She immediately stopped and turned, her expression expectant and a little hopeful.

"If you find your dreams are still troubling you…I'm…I'm just down the hall if you need me."

She smiled, nodding once. "The same for you." She paused, wrapping her arms around herself once more. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight" he replied softly, before they both turned and continued in their opposite directions.

Elizabeta never found that drink of water she had been craving earlier, but at the moment, it couldn't have been any further from her mind.

* * *

**I hope it was clear that it was Elizabeta's yell that woke Will from his dream that he mistakingly suspected was his mother's voice. I just wanted this chapter to be a whole chapter of connections -Their dreams, their parents, their mindset, their emotions and I hope that came across successfully.**

**Again, if you have any ideas for this story - a situation you'd like to see them in, anything you think would add to the plot, please let me know. **


	6. VI: We Found What We Were Looking For

His pen moved fluidly across the parchment. There was little hesitation to create the intrusive black spots caused by the quill's over excess. He had an idea in his head and for the first time in months they were finally coming to him clearer than they ever had. The old crate that eluded him since he had moved his things into the villa was found in a cabinet next to his room in the hallway. Inside, just as he remembered, were drawings and musings, scraps and ditched ideas that were his metal designs. For two days now he had started and continued an abandoned sword design outline.

The cross section he lightly traced across the background of the parchment allowed his eye to measure out the correct proportions. The pommel was tilted to create a perfect oval weight at the end of the handle. He decided against a guard to instead allow the weapon the optimum weightlessness. The fuller was the full width of the blade and stopped about midway up the metal. The grip possessed the design in which Will was focusing on at the moment. Because this was the first design that included his plan of actual creation, Will decided he should be as simple as he could to be sure of its quality. The four tacks going down the length of the thick grip would be wrapped and bound with leather, secured at the hilt and pommel with an iron encasing. Again, his pen traced over the last diamond shape of the tack making sure his hand was steady and not to waver.

Will heard a knock and lifted his head, making sure not to move or twitch his hand, and looked at the source of the noise.

Mia stood with a small memorandum in her hand and walked towards his desk. "I'm glad to see you found your old notes" she grinned

Will smiled back and gave a little shrug before he put the quill back in its ink pot. "I thought it was about time some of these scribbles were paid some adequate attention. They've been patiently waiting for me to wake up and let them see the daylight for ages now."

Mia lightly chuckled and gave him another warm grin. "Here. Arcavius has finished up with the last of his calculations."

Taking the pad into his hand he couldn't help but notice how many subtractions were written on the line of numbers. Yesterday Will had quietly given leave to four of the house slaves. They were the slaves that his father purchased and they did their job credibly, but Will saw no reason why he should have any use for them and honestly it made him slightly uncomfortable to have complete strangers in his home. They had not been as welcoming as Silas, his wife Natta, and Arcavius had been. Natta picked up with Mia easily and often helped one another with each other's chores. Silas was very hospitable, and despite his quiet nature, very informative when Will had questions about his new surroundings and responsibilities and Arcavius had been helpful as well, even if he was too nervous or unsure to speak his mind. The others did as they were told but always went about doing it a little begrudgingly. As could be expected they were wary of their new master, and after inquiring to Silas of the other slave's reluctance, it seemed that they had expected to be released by declaration in Faberius Senior's last will and testament. All of this, as well as Elizabeta's addition to the household, persuaded Will to free the other slaves and give them a substantial amount of money for a fresh start and parting gift.

He, of course, had expected money to be taken out of his savings but after giving the parchment a few looks over noticed more money was withdrawn than he had originally calculated before the slave's freeing yesterday. "Mia?" he inquired motioning her to come around the desk and have a look with him. She did so and leaned over his chair to look behind his shoulder. "There are a few subtractions here that aren't part of the amount I gave yesterday. What are they going towards?"

Her brow creased and she slowly shook her head. "You're right." She agreed slowly. "We should ask Arcavius to make sure his calculations are correct." She sighed lightly and stood up, moving to the opposite side of the desk again. "I'd hate to question his work, but it's something we cannot overlook."

Will nodded grimly and stood from his chair, beginning to follow Mia out the door but she turned quickly as if a thought struck her suddenly, with a teasing expression on her face. "Oh…someone else has found the benefit of your new _'adequate attentions'_…they are on the veranda, I believe."

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The flower's soft petals felt like silk under her finger tips. She was careful not to puncture the surfaces as her thumb ran up the underside of the stepal and back around. The blood red color gleamed under the afternoon sun. Elizabeta lifted the flower up closer to her nose and inhaled slowly. As if on instinct her eyes closed and a small smile played across her lips. One of her finger's strayed down to the bottom of the stem to touch where the flower was cut from the bush. The cut was clean and done carefully – in the same way the thorns were removed. It was no mystery who the flower was from and it made her cheeks stretch against her smile even more.

She had been living in Will's household for three days now and had watched the events around the villa like a hawk to try and learn or decipher any kind of pattern to the way things functioned. But the only thing Elizabeta was sure of, was that Will was a very kind, gentle, and enigmatic individual. He talked to her as if they had been friends for months rather than a few days. She herself felt very comfortable in his presence, which she could not explain – especially since her first instinct was to be wary of the Roman patrician. But yesterdays events had certainly surprised her. When she woke in the morning Will was already up and dressed and in the front garden. There were four slaves facing Will. Alongside her master were Arcavius, Natta, Silas, and Mia. The slaves bags were packed, they had traveling cloaks and beaming smiles on their faces. Will was freeing them. When Will saw her approach he waved her over to join them in their farewell. Handing them the respective freedman papers as well as a large coin purse to each, the remaining slaves and Will saw them through the front gate. Elizabeta stood slightly dumbfounded on the walk path next to her new master. Will had noticed her demeanor and explained very matter-of-fact that he felt more at ease without so many people in the villa – that they deserved their freedom after his father passed and now he was surrounded by people who he knew he could trust, which meant that he considered Elizabeta in that circle. Also, that Will had meant what he said about perhaps one day giving her her freedom. He didn't make empty promises. And although she wasn't sure when or if she would take him up on his word, it was clear that he was a trustworthy man.

Early this morning Elizabeta had gone to the fuller with Mia to see about a few new pieces of clothing for the girl. Mia had a few togas and tunics for her to wear but Elizabeta's slight frame and taller height proved the fabric to fit a little loose and awkward. A few thoughts had plagued Elizabeta's mind since seeing the other slaves off the morning before. She had hoped that her abrupt presence in the household hadn't prompted their unhappiness or Will to give them leave. Her concern gave her a little courage to confront Mia. She had spoken at length with Will but hadn't said a word to Mia until this morning. The woman was taken back to be sure, but didn't question her about the mute behavior, instead she answered her questions and made it clear that Will's decision was all his own and perhaps the girl's addition put things into motion, but she was no to concern herself with the former slaves position on her being brought to the villa. After their small discussion and new wardrobe she felt a little more at ease with everything… the rose she held now only propelled those calming vibes.

"I've seen you eyeing them the past couple of days." A voice spoke softly behind her.

Breaking her thoughts, she stood and turned towards the doorway to find Will leaning in the frame, making her smile grow. His arms were folded across his broad chest while his dark eyes shone in the reflected light of the shade. Suddenly she was embarrassed that he had been watching her from his perch for she knew not how long, and the fact that he had noticed her slight infatuation with the beautiful bud. "Ah you…caught that, did you?"

During the past three days, since she had come to the villa, they had gained a kind of equal rapport with one another. There was an unspoken familiarity between them and an ease which came naturally. Of course they were in a slightly awkward limbo – what with choosing their words carefully, and keeping their hands and eyes in check, but none the less the understanding in which the found themselves in once in each other's presence was…unique, and wholly exhilarating.

Will chuckled slightly and walked towards where she had been sitting near the steps of the fountain. "I was hoping I could persuade you to help me with something."

Elizabeta sat back down, with Will following suit. "You didn't need to bribe me with a rose." She grinned. "How can I help you?"

Will's gaze left her face and momentarily lingered on her bandaged wrists. The wrappings were lighter to give the wound a bit of needed air, but he could already see a difference in the skin around the lesion taking note of the smooth, pristine white surface compared to the angry red and infected nature of the area only yesterday. "You're wrists look much better." He said softly, lighting touching her forearm with his fingertips.

She looked down at what had distracted him and caught his attention. "Yes, they feel much better as well." She couldn't help but move her arm in better reach of his hand. His touch was so diverting and soothing that she lost herself for a moment in the prospect of his hands not just stopping at her wrists…

"I'm glad of it. You would tell me if it requires a physician's care, wouldn't you?" he asked in the same soft tone, allowing a stern concern to flash in his eyes.

Elizabeta swallowed and took a second to regain her thoughts then nodded. "Yes…but I don't think that'll be necessary. The care I have received so far has been more than enough."

He smiled and averted his gaze. It amazed him how this woman could have such an effect on him – his thoughts, his body – everything responded to her words and nearness. All she would have to do is breathe in his vicinity to catch his full attention. Looking into her soft brown eyes, his hand moved further up – his thumb tracing the contour of her cheek bone just below her right eye. "Your bruises are almost gone as well." He breathed. She felt her heartbeat speed up and her cheeks become a little warmer with the flush and she resisted the urge to incline her head into his waiting hand. Will saw her tense slightly and dropped his hand a little, afraid she would mistake his care for something more passionate….even if he truly felt more than a friendly concern…

Elizabeta saw his slight unease and decided to broach the subject he had hinted on earlier. "So, you'd said you needed my help with something…?

"Oh, yes…Well," he sighed, straightening his posture a bit, and putting his hands against the rock of the fountain's edge and away from the dangerous temptation of her again. "I just had a talk with Arcavius after looking over my expenditures for the past month, and since I've been here and I noticed there was a few more subtractions than I was aware pf…There is a company that was in my father's possession that I know nothing of, and even Arcavius was not privy to what exactly the money has gone to all these years. So I returned to my study to see if I could find some sort of documentation – anything – and it didn't take me long to notice what a complete mess it all was. There is no organization to any of it… so, I was wondering if you'd like to help me look through the documents, perhaps we could find what I'm looking for and hopefully clear the mess up at the mean time… I mean, of course I could do it myself, if you aren't keen, It's just that I think it would go bit smoother having another set of hands…" he trailed off suggestively, now making his request of her clear.

Will had been considering how to approach the subject for a good fifteen minutes after leaving his meeting with Arcavius. There was no rhyme or reason to anything filed in the cabinets and drawers. They were unrolled, crinkled, stuffed, shoved, and tossed in no particular order into anywhere the scrolls could fit. If Will was going to have any sort of idea what was in his father's possession, he was going to need organization. It would be quicker and more efficient if he had someone else to assist him but he was at a loss at who to ask. Mia was busy with other things around the villa and knew that he didn't need to burden her with something so tedious. Arcavius was going over the figures one more time at Will's request to make sure the numbers were correct, Silas was busy tending to the garden in front of the villa, and Natta had been sent into the market to retrieve a few things. He had already picked the rose for her and left it on her window sill for her to find. But now that he had an opportunity to turn the pointless gift into a reasonable payment, he took the reason. Besides, he mused to himself, this would give he and Elizabeth time to themselves with a valid excuse. Any time he could aquire to be around her, let alone talk to her, would be time well spent – the organization be damned!

"Hmm…" she tilted her head in mock contemplation. "It's a daunting task, but I think I'm up to it."

Will couldn't help but smile.

"All I need is a vase."

His smile faultered. "A…vase?"

Elizabeta stood and slightly tugged at the toga that wrapped at her waist to adjust it from sitting. For a moment Will was again dazzled by the woman in front of him. Clean, white, bright, fair, light, and smooth would be the words any onlooker would use to describe the aesthetic around her, but the most fetching thing about this woman was the glint in her eye and the small twitch of an impish smile and wonderfully perplexing nature of her being in general. "Yes, for my rose." She replied simply.

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"Twenty-seven…Twenty-eight…Twenty – nine….You have twenty-nine in this shelf alone." Elizabeta sighed, resting her weight on the back of her feet in her crouched position on the floor. She and Will had been going through his father's documents in an attempt at organization – something, apparently, his father had never tried his hand at whilst he was alive – for about an hour now.

Will, squatting down against the other wall of shelves on the opposite wall, stood. "There are Thirty-two over here. So that makes…Ninety-two all together with that." He said gesturing to the pile they had gone through earlier. "and we've yet to cover those" he said, tossing an arm to the three other cabinets near the window.

Elizabeta stood and placed her hand on her lower back in an attempt to stretch the knotted muscles. "We've yet to find their key." She slightly grumbled.

Will sat down against the cabinets leaning back with his arms resting across his knees, a crooked smile beginning to appear. "Regret your decision to help me yet?" he asked teasingly.

Elizabeta didn't need a moment to contemplate her answer. "No. Not at all."

Since they had been rifling through drawer after drawer and shelf after shelf, unrolling and smoothing out documents in search of their find, they had talked about Elizabeta's attachment to the rose flower and how it reminded her of her mother. Will did not press about her mother's current well-being because he had guessed she had already passed judging by the way she spoke of her. Elizabeta was grateful for that. She wasn't sure she could also be comfortable mentioning her mother after the fresh thoughts of her death came rushing back this morning upon seeing the gift left for her on her window sill. They talked of Silas's helpfulness and Will inquired of how Elizabeta was being treated by the others. She, of course, said they were all very welcoming but gave her a slight distance. This bothered Will a little but he knew it was only because of her 'new-comer' polish. It also gave him a little comfort in knowing that he had already given freedom most of the slaves she had mentioned, giving a bit of solace to know she would no longer be looked upon wrongly, and could feel completely comfortable. Will later explained, a little disconcerted, why he had no knowledge of his own father's companies and possessions – that he knew next to nothing of the deceased man and was learning along like a stranger might learn about a fallen hero in the annals. Elizabeta tried her best to pick up his spirits and drive away his embarrassed nature of the subject explaining that she herself did not know all of her father's dealings when he was alive, and there was no reason for Will to feel robbed of any son's duties. This again, brought Elizabeta's father to the front of the questioning but the only question Will asked was "What kind of profession was your father in?"

He was of course curious for two reasons. One, being that he had heard stories of the barbaric nature of the people of Britannia and was hungry for any information she might volunteer about her life there. Two, because this man was her father and so far since her three day stay here, she had not brought up the subject of her past on her own. Elizabeta did not turn towards him but continued her work of pressing out a crinkled scroll and replied, "He was a high ranking official of our government… much like your father I suppose."

This reply left many questions burning on Will's brain but felt the wall that told him not to push past it just yet. For a while they talked of the kind of weather she could expect here in the differing seasons, and she divulged a little information of her rebellious nature as a young girl – sneaking off to a secluded field, or the creek near her home, later realizing that she couldn't disappear without reaping the consequences once she was found. Will found this very amusing and had them both laughing with his own tales of the mischievous tales of him as a child.

"I hope we find something to point us in the right direction" Will sighed, breaking Elizabeta from her thoughts.

She nodded and slid down the cabinets into a sitting position, mirroring Will's posture. "We can take a small break – to give our knees and back a rest." She offered.

Will agreed and stood, offering his hand to assist her. Elizabeta grinned at his shining face and gave him her hand. Before she stood she grabbed one of the paper weights she had been using to press the parchment on the floor, and placed it on the shelf top beside her, then stood all the way up. The weight, when it was put on the wooden surface not only created the THUD of heavy iron against polished oak, but also resulted in an unexpected CLINK.

Both of them gave the object and shelf a queer look. Will slightly tilted his head and gave the shelf another knock with his knuckles. Again the '_clink_' resounded. Elizabeta met his inquisitive eyes as their ears followed the sound. Again he knocked and again the '_clink_'. Elizabeta took the shelf from the back and pulled out from the wall as hard as she could. Will saw what she was attempting to do and immediately assisted her. Once the shelf was a few inches from the wall, Will knocked again. Their eyes went to the back left corner of the furniture. Reaching around with nimble fingers, Elizabeta encountered a small hollow in the back of the shelf and pulled out a short bronze key. The same impish smile that had Will's head spinning earlier by the fountain, again left him dazed.

"I think we can get into those cabinets now."

Will smiled and slid and upturned hand across his body in direction of the cabinets. "Be my guest"

Elizabeta began to move past Will between his body and the stacks of documents piled at the end of his desk. Will placed his and on her waist to assist her balance as he tried as hard as he could to lean away from her path. Once she felt his hand through the thin fabric of her clothes, she was became faintly aware of how her body rested against his touch. Noticing she had taken a second or two longer than necessary to pass by him, she quickly moved the rest of the way and promptly dropped to her knees in front of one of the cabinets and allowed her hair to shield her slightly blushed face. Will had noticed her lingering and it also took him a second to recompose himself enough to be sure he could kneel down next to her without putting his hands on her again.

Turning the key, the lock clicked and the small door took a little prying before it opened completely. Elizabeta stole a glance at Will and the two shared a smirk at their small triumph, then she moved to the second cabinet, opening it in the same way. They sat in front of the shelves and began to shuffle through the parchments. Will found his father's birth certificate, his documents concerning his inductions into the Senate, the deeds to his land and the villa, as well as a few other deeds to country parcels. "Amazing…." He mused allowed. "Here is the document signed by my father when he was first elected into the Senate…nothing on any business though. Have you found anything?"

Elizabeta _had_ found something. Her cabinet was filled with shipping documents. Commissions for ships, contracts with captains, sailors, and first mates were all present in the pile. There was one large document that held her attention now.

"Will, look at this." she placed it gently on the floor in front of Will for his inspection.

Before him was a contract drawn up, by a man named Iaonnes Sparro. It stipulated the details of a business called the Faberius Shipping Company. It stated that his father was in fact the company's owner but that the management and over seeing would be in the charge of Sparro . His father had apparently given a large sum of money for the start up of the company, and all but relinquished his rights in profit. It was all fairly short and listed in a summary type of manner. The handwriting was course and barely legible but its meaning was clear all the same. After reading over it once, then twice, it seemed as though his father had given Sparro his name and change bag to the company but received nothing in return. Finally looking past the blank at the bottom of the parchment, Will allowed himself to finally see the signatures. Alongside Gullielmus Faberius and Iaonnes Sparro was…..Iacobus Nortanus.

Nortanus? He was his father's business partner? Hadn't he hated his father? The initial surprise of seeing Gullielmus Faberius' name alongside Iacobus Nortanus began to wear off as a state of confusion and curiousity took its place. This was the company that was being paid out to every month. Will assumed his father's money was still funding the sailor's payment and any blow the company might have taken from any loss of profit or business. But it was very confusing to him why he or his father saw no money reciprocated, or why Nortanus was involved with it.

"This is what we've been looking for" Will breathed, resting his hand against it's surface.

Elizabeta nodded and took note of Will's befuddled expression. She took another glance at Will who's dark eyes still ran across the page. "So what do we – you – do now" she asked, catching her pluralized question in the event that he was finished with her services.

Will shook his head, finally tearing his gaze off the document to look at her. "I don't know. This brings up so many questions…." He trailed off with a picture of Nortanus and this mystery man Sparro in his head. "I suppose a trip to –" he paused looking down at the contract "Ostia Antica - is in order" he finished, glancing up at her with the same unsettled expression.

She noticed how troubled he was once he had read the parchment, and she had expected for him to face some difficulty if for no other reason than that he knew nothing of the existence of his father's company. But she could tell that was not the only thing that had disturbed him. Glancing down at the document, still in his hands, she saw a name that was all too familiar to her. She felt her heart drop to her knees. "…Iacobus Nortanus…" she breathed.

"Yes, it's odd…" Will mused. Then he paused, the fearful and surprised tone in her voice finally registering with his clouded mind. Will quirked an eyebrow. "You know of him?"

Elizabeta swallowed and quickly took her eyes from the page, diverting them to the wall in front of her - filled with the marble busts and stoney gazes of the passed Faberius men, nodding at his question.

"Oh yes," he straightened as the realization came to him. "He was at the market the other day when you…" he abruptly stopped his sentence realizing he didn't have a need to continue, seeing the look of stoicism set on the woman's face. The same look he had seen the day in the market.

Will sat up from his leaning against he cabinet and turned to completely face her. "Have you seen him after the market?" he looked at her intently waiting for some kind of response or inclination to an answer but she remained still. Will was suddenly afraid of what the man had done or said to her. He was a commanding officer in the Roman Legion who had just as much power as any other politician in the City. He had obviously been interested in purchasing Elizabeta for his own…. There was no telling what he was capable of if he encountered her unprotected or alone. "He hasn't approached you, since then has he….when you and Mia went to the fuller today?" Again he waited and he saw her slightly shake her head to the negative.

"No" she mumbled. "No, I haven't seen him since.

Will thought back to the afternoon in the market, and the short encounter with the Officer. He recalled him approaching Felix Antonius's table with a calm yet commanding demeanor, complaining about the abrupt ending of Elizabeta's bidding. He had been cordial enough… but… Will did recall, in the back of his mind, Elizabeta slightly recoiling in man's presence. She hadn't been so guarded in front of the others…. "You knew him before." He stated. It was not a question.

Elizabeta's eyes flickered to his quickly, as she was unable to gauge what he was thinking by the tone in his voice. She was met with nothing but concern and curiosity. She consentrated on focusing her gaze on the bandages around her wrists, she took a deep breath. "To say I _knew_ him would be a mistake." She said a little ruefully, letting a bitter edge seep into her voice. "He and his men brought me to Rome."

Will stayed still, afraid if he spoke or moved that she was end her explanation. But on the inside his mind was whirling. Nortanus had been there when Elizabeta and her people were taken captive. This brought up all the burning questions that had plagued his mind since setting foot into the crowded market square. How many people were taken? How many died? Did they die by the blade or by fire when they undoubtedly torched the village? They had been together for days on a confined and shackled ship…what had he done to her?

"I wish I didn't know of him." She said lowly.

Will could tell by the way her shoulders set so rigidly, the way her chin lifted slightly that she was in the same defensive state as when he first encountered her. The last thing he wanted was for her to shut down and block him out. They had made such great progress the past couple of days – talking so freely, little by little divulging more of their past and feelings – it would all be for nothing if she reverted back into herself. Will knew exactly what that kind of reversion felt like…

"Remember what I told you Elizabeta…" he said softly, moving across the floor, just a little closer to her but always just shy of touching.

Her eyes left the wall in front of her and flitted to his hand that was just a couple inches away from her elbow, then up to his eyes that were gently pleading.

"I'm here if you need me." He finished as he lowered his head, attempting to see the expression of her down turned face.

Elizabeta took a deep breath to maybe attempt to clear the thick air and allowed a small smile to play on her lips. "Yes, I remember, 'right down the hall'" she quoted him with a little chuckle.

Will grinned as well but it didn't reach his eyes. "Exactly…right down the hall." He said, taking the couple of inches between her hand and his, curling his fingers under hers in a gentle but promising grip.

Knowing Will didn't see the humor she had attempted to shade herself with, it shouldn't have come as a surprise when he gave her some kind of assurance of his companionship, but when he took her hand it was like a thick, thrumming current flowed through her body from that one connected spot. She quickly noted that this was the first time he had touched her without the pretense of assisting her, bandaging her, or checking her wounds… or perhaps it was – just a wound she couldn't see with the naked eye…

"Sir"

The pair of eyes quickly turned to the doorway to see Arcavius with the memorandum in his hand. The man took note of the position he found the two of them in: sitting quite close on the floor against the cabinet's paneling, one of their hands embraced and a thick atmosphere of intense discussion – it was obvious he had interrupted. "Uh I'm sorry, Sir. I'll just-"

"No, Arcavius, It's alright." Will said, as he reluctantly let go of Elizabeta's hand and got to his feet, Elizabeta following suit.

He cleared his throat and shifted his feet, still a little uncomfortable with barging in on their situation. "I finished the calculations… There was no mistaking the subtractions, Sir."

Will nodded and looked at Elizabeth still standing next to the cabinets. She met his gaze with a knowing glint. Will walked forward the couple of steps toward Arcavius and took the memorandum from him, flipping to the appropriate page. "Thank you for going over them again."

Arcavius nodded.

"We found what we were looking for." Will added as he inclined his head towards the scroll now in Elizabeta's hand.

"The company? That's wonderful, sir. What's your plan of action?" Arcavius asked, relieved that his master had finally solved the riddle but a little anxious of that the result would be.

Will shifted his weight from foot to foot a little unsure. He then shrugged and gave a defeated sounding sigh. "Speak to Mia." He said simply. Its what he had done in the past when unexpected or confusing situations had arisen.

The three of them marched determinedly into the kitchen where Mia and Natta were preparing the evening's supper. The modest room was the least extravagant of all the spaces in the villa but was never meant for the master's or guest's eyes when it was built. Once all five of them were there together the room seemed to shrink. The aroma of cooked goose and roasted asparagus and radishes filled the air that wafted through the short corridor and kitchen. Natta looked up from the pot she was stirring with a surprised but pleasant smile on her weathered face. "Master Gullielmus Faberius! Dinner is almost ready, sir."

Will nodded and smiled gratefully, but still a little distracted to find Mia. "Thank you Natta. Is Mia here?

Seeing Arcavius and the new slave Elizabeta standing behind her master with a large scroll clutched to her chest, along with Master Gulleilmus Faberius's searching expression she knew something was cooking – not just the goose.

"Here I am" Mia chirped as she came in from the garden with a few more radishes in her apron. She too appraised the people in front of her and noticed a tension.

Will stepped forward as Mia placed the food on the counter. "Elizabeta has found the document we've been looking for concerning my father's company."

Mia's eyes glanced to the girl behind him then back to Will as she wiped her hands on her apron. "What did it say?"

Will turned and Elizabeta gave the scroll to him, then he handed it to Mia as he explained. "It is a shipping company. A man named Iaonnes Sparro has been put in charge. It seems as if he's the one who drew up the document." Will then paused as he saw her eyes scan over the document. "The other partner alongside Sparro is Tribunus Iacobus Nortanus Metallus."

Mia hesitated and lifted a questioning gaze to Will who returned her expression. Will told her of his encounter with Nortanus in the marketplace a few days prior and was now just as suspicious as he was of the situation that now presented itself. A company kept hush, the profit and dealings of which placed elsewhere, with a now self-professed enemy of the deceased Faberius as a partner in business. "Have you considered talking to Tribunus Nortanus?"

Will stood silent for a moment, letting the suggestion run its course. For a fleeting moment in his study when he had first lay eyes on his name, Will _had_ considered going straight to Nortanus to question him on his dealings, and certainly his history with his father. It was an errant thought though…he needed to go to the source. He needed to go to Ostia Antica, and maybe even this man Sparro himself. "I had. But I think it would be better if I go to the town… see things for myself."

After Will had spoken it aloud, his decision seemed like the right one. It was probably best to leave Nortanus out of the loop for as long as possible until Will could be sure of where he and his father stood on the business side of things. The only hitch making Mia hesitate was how fast things were falling into place. Will had moved here, his father died, he had to sort out the truthful and dishonest merchants and con-men coming to his doorstep by the dozens every day looking to swindle him, and the challenge of just become acquainted with the center of the universe that _was_ Rome. And now the conundrum of this shipping company has been thrust upon him with no clues to how to proceed or who to trust. "I think that would be best too…Sir" she added, forgetting to be the one to set the right example and show some propriety. "But I would suggest for you not to go alone." Letting the motherly concern seep into her thoughts and out of her mouth. No matter how old Will became she would still remember him as the little boy she passing sweets to under the dinner table when his mother had her back turned.

"Hmm yes, I suppose." He reluctantly concurred. As much as he would like to take off to Ostia with the burn of curiosity still aflame, he knew that Mia had a point, as usual.

"Perhaps Arcavius could accompany you." She said gesturing to the still silent man behind him. "I still have many things to keep in order here and I doubt I would be much use to you in the business realm that you find yourself venturing into…sir" Both Will and Mia knew that Mia staying home while Will was away, was probably the best for everyone. He didn't need any more solicitors coming around, or Nortanus himself while there was no one to speak for him other than Arcavius, Natta, or Silas. As much as he trusted his new found friends and slaves, Mia was his second mother and he could be absolutely positive of her intentions and trust.

"Arcavius?" Will turned. "What do you say?"

The man searched for the words, as to not offend his master but speak truthfully. Once he was brought to Rome all those years ago, he had never left the City's walls. And as much as he thought and spoke fondly of his childhood home, he still felt a kind of safety and familiarity in the Faberius villa. He also knew next to nothing of being a traveling manservant, and the last thing he wanted was for Master to find a reason to be displeased. "I am honored, Sir, that you would ask me… but I… I also have work to be done here… I know nothing of Ostia – I –I don't think I would be of much help."

Will smiled gently and placed an assuring hand on Arcavius's shoulder. "It's alright if you don't want to go. I will not hold it against you."

Arcavius nervously glanced at him and Mia but nodded gratefully for the genuine relief he felt.

Elizabeta who had kept silent since Arcavius had entered Will's office, had watched the exchanges with a keen eye. Courage to speak up had been bubbling inside her since the subject had been brought up with Mia but she saw no reason to speak out of turn. Now that Mia as well as Arcavius had both declined to go with Will she felt like the door had been cracked and a light of opportunity was shining through its opening. "I'll go with you, Will" She spoke suddenly.

Not only her suggestion but the use of Will's first name earned Elizabeta a slightly shocked and reproachful look from Mia. Elizabeta immediately caught the glare and retraced her steps. "Will – Will…Will you allow me to accompany you?"

The young man couldn't help but smile the little humorous exchange between Mia and Elizabeta, also thinking it was ease Elizabeta a slightly from her slip of tongue in front of the other slaves. He of course didn't mind in the least, but he knew Mia felt differently because of her ardent effort to set an example. The smile was also for the most immediate and much stronger feelings of relief and joy. Elizabeta would be accompanying him –alone - for no disclosed amount of time. They would have no pretenses to uphold or hierarchical roles to fulfill. Perhaps she too would see this as a chance for them to really talk to one another and for them both to open up as they had been hinting to do. After a moment of his quiet elation, Will realized he had yet to voice his answer. "Yes, I would like that very much."

Elizabeta grinned back and nodded, then quickly looking down to remember the people and situation that surrounded her at the moment. She was more than glad that he accepted her offer and his almost exuberant happiness at the proposal, but made a great effort to keep her expression in check while still in the others' presence.

"Sir" Mia's voice cut in a bit harshly between the two.

Will took his eyes from Elizabeta and rearranged the happy and hopeful expression that was plastered on his face to receive another disapproving look from Mia. He knew that look well. He also didn't need her to begin another sentence to know where she was going with the glare.

"You said yourself I needed someone to come along with me." He reminded her gently. "Elizabeta has offered – I see no reason why she shouldn't accompany me."

The elder woman sighed in frustration and defeat. There truly was no one else who could come with him. Natta and Silas with their lack of knowledge and old age would be no help to Will and if anything hinder him in his travels. They had already exhausted herself and Arcavius as options…so she had no choice but relent. Besides, she had no concrete reason to disapprove of the two going together – it was mostly her motherly concern rearing its practiced and unrelenting head. She still did not know if she or Will could fully trust this girl. After all, she had kept her ability to speak and understand Latin a secret since she had been taken into custody! Who knew what else she was keeping to herself. She also was privy to the intense changes that had taken place with Will since she had come to live in the Villa. They were positive changes to be sure – going to bed at a decent hour, not drinking nearly as often, beginning to work on his forgotten metal workings, and smiling or laughing at the drop of a hat – it was refreshing… but all the more painful if the high became a fast falling low. Elizabeta held that card. For now, Mia could not stop the wheels from turning. So she nodded her consent and handed the document back to Will.

"Alright then." She said with some finality. "Leave us be in the kitchen and we'll finish dinner."

Arcavius and Will turned to leave but Elizabeta paused before following them. "Would you like me to help you, Mia?" she asked quietly, in hopes of mending any offense she made earlier when speaking to Will. She knew how important Will was to her and vise versa so to step on the elder woman's toes or tread on thin ice would not be beneficial for anyone.

Mia turned to face her from the radishes she now washed up. She could tell the girl was making an attempt at an apology and her disapproval softened slightly at her pleading brown eyes. "No dear. You need to prepare for your leave tomorrow… I would think Will would like to go as soon as possible."

The girl nodded, knowing she was forgiven – in Mia's own way – and left the kitchen to her room. Even though the other slaves had been freed and the outer buildings practically emptied, Mia – and she assumed Will as well, agreed and told her to stay where she was, at least for now. She didn't question their motives, for her villa bedroom was more than enough, but she still felt undeserving of such attentions while being so new to the household. After she washed her face in the basin of water in the corner of her room, she heard a knock at the door. Taking the rag and drying off she opened the door to find Will holding the vase with her rose.

"You forgot this in the study." He said, offering it to her.

"Thank you" she said, taking the vase and placing it on her window sill where she had found it earlier this morning.

"I should be the one thanking _you_" he said quietly as she turned around from the window.

Smiling, she sat on the bed, tucking a leg underneath her and twisting to face him. "Why do you say that?" she mused.

Will grinned and scratched the back of his neck a little shyly. "I was beginning to think I was going to have to go alone tomorrow."

She laughed and tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear. He looked so boyishly cute standing there in the middle of her room with his head tilted down and looking at her under his brow. "You wouldn't have to go anywhere alone if you'd just ask me."

The realization of what she just said hit them at about the same time. Will's smile grew and Elizabeta's faltered. "I – I mean about your business…or..yes, any errands… I could just – go- come along with you…if you needed someone."

Will moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed next to her, lightly chucking at her stammers. "Alright." He said after she had sufficiently quieted and the pink of her cheeks grew to an all time high. "I'll know to ask you if the occasion should arise again." He lightly prodded but laced with an air of sincerity.

She nodded, letting her hair shield him from view again, like she had done in the office when his nearness and touch had become all too intense for her to ignore. Will slowly moved his hand forward and slipped the hair behind her shoulder and behind her ear, never really grazing her body except for a slight touch on the shell of her ear. "You don't have to hide." He said, a new seriousness deepening his voice.

She immediately looked to him and it didn't need mentioning that he meant more than just about her blush… but of so many other unspoken subjects that had been touched on but never really discussed – never really spoken aloud.

"Just down the hall." She said, repeating the phrase that had become her mantra of comfort.

Will looked from her lips, to her cheek, to her nose, then rested on her eyes and shook his head slightly. "No. I'm right here."

Her heart was beating so erratically, she thought for sure he would be able to hear it pounding her ribcage like a drum but he made no indication of any sound but their own breathing. They had grown closer to each other while they had spoken that her knee touched his thigh, and although both were clothed she could feel a heat radiating between their skin. Will's hand was frozen, still on the side of her head, his fingertips just barely touching her hair, poised to bring her face closer to his if another seconded ticked by as perfect as the last…

"Sir! Supper is ready" Mia's voice called from the hallway, not far from the door.

The two of them immediately parted and Will stood from the bed. Mia appeared in the doorway, still donning her apron. "Natta is bringing it out just now." She said, ignorant of the situation she had almost walked in on…ignorant or blissfully denying, Will couldn't tell.

Will nodded. "We will join you shortly… I need to wash up." He spoke quickly as he dared to rid Mia from the room and also keep his composure.

With his answer, the elder woman turned and left. Elizabeta drew her eyes from the ground and looked to Will. A grin stretched across his tanned face once more as he shrugged his shoulders. "Like I said… Mia and her knack of opportune moments." He chuckled.

Elizabeta couldn't help but laugh as well as she took Will's hand that he offered to help her from the bed. The two of them joined the rest of the household in the dining room for supper, but as they sat, no longer touching, no longer speaking at present, but still connected by coy glances across the table – Elizabeta and Will did share the same amusing and terrifying thoughts: Tomorrow was the beginning of some kind of adventure. But of what kind, no one could be certain.

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**Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the reviews and support! I appologize again for my updates being so few and far between, but I hope you guys stick with me and this story dispite my procrastination and busy schedule. I know this chapter may read kind of slow at moments but it was mostly a set-up (as you may have noticed) for the upcoming chapters. **

**As you also may have noticed, Iaonnes Sparro IS Jack Sparrow (Iaonnes being the Latin form of John - Jack being a nickname of John) .... hope that all makes sense. So he IS making an appearance in the story. I just hope I write Jack credibly for all you fans. **

**Thank you again to the wonderful PirateRN for all her support and suggestions :)**

**- InnerSmile**


	7. Authors Note

My fist of many "I'm Sorry":

When you saw that the story was updated, you probably assumed it was a new chapter. So, I'm sorry, it's just an authors note.

I'm also sorry that I haven't made a real update in ages and keeping you guys waiting. I AM going to continue this story and I DO have a storyline already made up – the trick is actually finding time and devoting my full attention on writing.

My classes have taken up a HUGE chunk of my time… well, not really my classes per se, but the homework. Add on softball practice, work, and my tutoring classes and there you have no free time.

I've begun writing the next chapter but have yet found the time to finish it – and I don't want to rush it.

I don't want to be rash and promise all of you a 'due date' on my next chapter, because this semester has enough papers due and research projects. And I would hate to lie to you and get your hopes up if I didn't come through.

For those of you who are still sticking with me and reading my story – thank you, thank you, thank you!

You will (eventually) be rewarded with a finished product.

So again, I'm sorry for my huge delays and making you all wait, as well as faking you out with this story 'update' but I didn't want you all to think I had completely abandoned Will and Elizabeta

I'm here. And they're eagerly awaiting their next move probably more than you guys are.

Thanks again! …and sorry…again. As well as a special thanks to PirateRN

-InnerSmile


	8. VII: Survivors

******InnerSmile is back from the DEAD! lol for a little while anyway :P I apologize to my faithful readers and faithful fans. I really have let you guys down with this story. I hope that this update makes a little bit of a mends and I hope that you enjoy it and worth the wait. So sorry friends. Read, Enjoy, Review! :)**

* * *

The sun was peeking over the brow of the hill that the villa sat perched upon. The early morning's twilight threw long blue-ish grey shadows across dewy ground, still cool from the night air. Elizabeta wrapped her hand around the cool wrought iron gate in the front garden as she made her way to the road in front of her. Will was close behind, two small bundles of clothes and cloth under his arm and a basket of food and wine in the other, with a couple of scrolls in his elbow She glanced back at his load for the tenth time since their short morning of preparation, ready to offer him assistance once more but knowing she would be rebuffed again if she spoke. So instead she held her mouth closed with the pursed lips playing at a grin. The gate creaked in protest as the couple swung open the hinges and walked toward the carriage that was ready and waiting. Arcavius stood beside the two brown horses that were stomping in preparation of the journey they knew was primed to come. Will placed the load on the platform of the carriage, and took the reins from his servant.

"It's ready, sir. They'll be a little unsteady at first…it's been a while since they've been on the road, but they're fine mares." Arcavius said, gesturing to the horses behind him.

Will reached over and ran a hand across the short smooth hairs on the horse's neck and gave it a soft pat. She immediately ceased her stomping and nuzzled her nose against his shoulder. Elizabeta watched and mused that maybe she wasn't the only one who was victim to Will's calming touch.

Silas, Natta, and Mia stood in the threshold of the villa's open doorway. Mia looked on with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders to keep off the early morning chill as well as something for her fingers to fiddle with as the never ending concerns flashed through her mind. Will and Arcavius checked the straps and buckles once over to make sure everything was secure on the carriage before Will thanked him for his early morning thoroughness in preparation. Will turned to Elizabeta who had stood silent by the wayside until he offered a hand out for her. She stepped up to the carriage, placed her hand in his, and allowed him to assist her up. The seat of the Cisium carriage was just large enough for two people and a small amount of luggage to go between their foot space, so once she climbed on and released Will's hand to settle herself, the…close quarters – in which they would complete their journey was apparent to her. She arranged their small amount of luggage so that it would nestle between their feet on the platform. Will handed her the reins as he took Arcavius by the forearm for a farewell.

Mia walked through the gate and softly called Will's name to direct his attention. It wasn't as if the occasion called for hushed tones and quiet movements, but there was an almost unspoken, invisible lull in the air that seemed to tranquilize the setting before them and make their actions and voices obey in return.

"Be safe." She said slowly, deliberately, as if to brand the two words into his skin.

Will nodded and leaned down slightly, wrapping his arms around the woman's shoulders. For a second he let the memory flash into his mind of the other countless times he had embraced her and his arms would only reach up to her waist. "We will" he promised.

Will parted and lifted himself into the carriage next to Elizabeta who held the reins patiently. He took them from her with an encouraging smile. Mia leaned against the carriage and placed a hand on Will's. Her face was serious as her eyes switched to both Will and Elizabeta "Keep an eye out for thieves on the road. I wouldn't stop for a rest until you're sure of the area. Once you get to Ostia be sure to keep your coin purse and belongings close at hand… I've heard some talk of pirates in that town. You have the dagger on you?"

Will leaned back and pushed the excess fabric of his toga to reveal a dagger and sheath attached to his belt. It was not to the quality and flare he would make a hand weapon but a weapon none the less. Mia gave a tight lipped smile and squeezed Will's hand which he in turn kissed her knuckle.

Elizabeta knew that Mia had a deep motherly concern for Will and she could see the feelings ran deep for him as well. It warmed her to see how caring and patient Will was with her. "We will be as careful as we can, Mia, I swear" she said, giving the elder woman a reassuring nod.

The girl's response sufficed the woman for now and she released Will's hand stepping back from the carriage to the gate, wrapping the shawl in her hands once more.

Will gave the small, watching, crowd a short wave then snapped the reins which signaled the ready and waiting horses that it was their time to begin. Starting off down the road, they just passed the villa's gate before the sun made its debut appearance over the hill, casting out the blue-grey shadows and replacing them will a brilliant shimmer on the dewy grass and a shine for every leaf in the passing trees.

"I think it's going to be a beautiful day" Elizabeta said as she looked across the hill into the city of Rome that was just beginning to waken.

Will glanced at the sight before him, but his eyes did not linger on the town below, but the woman at his side. "Hmm… beautiful."

She couldn't be sure of his flickering eye, but didn't let herself dwell on it more than was necessary. After all, most of the attentions she seemed to sense from him couldn't all be true. Wishful thinking was a persuasive thing on a smitten mind. Instead she continued with her previous thread of thought. "I haven't seen a sunrise in a while… and certainly not one in this land. You almost forget how wonderful it all is…how beautiful it looks coming over the horizon, it's like seeing for the first time – each time."

Will couldn't agree more. However, her statement had a double meaning in this lovely setting. The brand new rays of light shimmering off her golden hair, the flecks of yellow and green shining in her brown irises, the rosy blush of her cheeks chilled from the morning air, her ivory skin glowing – offsetting the sparse freckles across the bridge of her nose …his mind wandered and his lips followed cautiously. "Like waking up after a long sleep, or a deep pull of breathe after your lungs burn for a second too long_._" _ Is the same relief I find in you each morrow and does nothing but grow exponentially every day…. _He finished to himself silently.

"Its no wonder the poets have compared the sun and moon to the passions of love." Elizabeta grinned, folding her hands in her lap and focusing her eyes on the beating hooves in front of her.

Will balked for a moment. "You know of the poets?"

She nodded, pulling her shawl around her shoulders a little tighter, almost as an attempt to shield his pending disapproval from stinging too much. "Homer, Virgil, Persius, Horace, Euripedes…I've read most of them all."

Would this girl ever cease to surprise him? Again he was reminded how little he knew about her – this stranger who had managed to bewitch him. "That's right… you're _are_ the mystery and _I_ am always learning." He smiled at her. Now was as a good a time as any to begin his inquiry, so long as she permits him. "Was it by a master you were taught these epics?"

"No, my father was in charge of my schooling. He taught me Latin as well as arithmetic and the epics." She glanced at Will to gauge his reaction, and seeing nothing but curiosity and a bit of question in his face, she continued after a moment. "He knew the future of our people belonged with the Romans and he saw no reason why my gender should be reason to leave me in the dark." She hesitated once more and lowered her voice almost to a whisper before finishing: "Besides, it was something my father and I could share together." Memories of candle lit bedside readings flashed through her mind. Her father expertly reading The Odyssey with flare and infliction to each respective character – she, cringing at the bloody battle scenes and smiling as the hero outsmarted his foes and made it to his native shores….his far away, distant, forgotten shores….

Will's voice pulled her from her thoughts sharply. "That was good of him to continue your education; most fathers discontinue their daughter's learning long before then."

Elizabeta let a hard chuckle. "I'm well aware of…the _Romans_ attitude towards women's roles." She shook her head, stealing a look at Will who made no motion or intention to speak. She was curious on his stance of a woman's sense of independence or solidarity. "Do you think my father was in the wrong?"

"No…no, on the contrary, I think it's admirable. I see no reason why woman cannot be held at the same esteem as men. My mother, in the very least, taught me that." And it was true. It had always angered him as a boy when men of the town would speak down to his mother, or make suggestive comments about her private life –as if every woman was lacking virtues unless proven otherwise. She was an extraordinary mother – person, who was capable of more than society would let her. Other than the physical, he saw no reason why they should warrant the name of the 'weaker sex'.

"I shouldn't be surprised." She grinned, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

"Why do you say that?"

"The way you are with Mia… the way you are…with me." She spoke with her eyes straight ahead of her. Her own words made her heart quicken – nervousness, excitement, and mostly embarrassment shot up her chest and caused a rush of blood to stain her cheeks. However, it didn't stop her mouth from moving. Now that she had started she decided to build up some courage for once while in his presence. "I can see you are different."

Will could see that she was fighting with herself while she spoke. Her demeanor betrayed her passionate words. She was unsure, but he couldn't put his finger one _why_. His immediate reaction was to be touched by her observation…. but it could mean so many things…. "Different hmm…sometimes I'm not convinced that 'different' is good." He prodded lightly.

The rush of blood had faded and a deep breath had calmed her nerves. So when she spoke "With you it is." – it was said with the utmost serenity lacing her tone.

Since the first time he had seen her up on that scaffold in the market place to the carriage they were in now, Will had yet to feel such a strong urge to take her in his arms and kiss her with everything he possessed. Not when her chest was exposed to him by the auctioneer, or when he was alone in her room sitting next to her on her bed… Now he could sense her blooming trust, a trace of affection in her voice, a ghost of truth to her words. His eyes lingered with hers for a moment too long before he too became slightly embarrassed and looked away. If he didn't avert his attentions now he would end up dropping the reins to instead take hold of her waist and that would _not_ be conducive to his promise to Mia to be safe. He, instead, decided to change the subject for the time being… There were so many questions roaming his mind that he wanted her to answer. Will swallowed hard, trying to draw a bit of courage to his voice. He tightened his grip on the reigns to insure his hands stay where they were as well as to let the rough, thick leather rub under his calloused finger tips. The question was directly on his tongue – always on the forefront of his mind – one of the main questions at the top of his mental list, but now that they were alone, now that he sensed her building trust, he hoped this was the best time as any to bring up one of the unspoken walls in the middle of their new arrangement. "So, I am going to ask you this…and know that if you refuse to answer me I will not take offense to your silence. But I am beyond curious – about you, about your past, about your troubles… What happened to your father?"

She was slightly caught off guard by his sharp change of subject but was not surprised of the question – she knew it would be asked eventually, especially after their discussion of her troubling dreams. She licked her lips and blinked a few times at an attempt to control her pending rush of emotions. She didn't want to cry or seem irrational but it was almost like a reflex for the lump in her throat to make an appearance whenever an image of her father was brought to the forefront of her thoughts. "I guess I should start at the beginning..."

Her attempts to keep the tears at bay were already beginning to fail and her voice cracked slightly. "I'm sorry, I haven't actually tried to speak about this out loud." She glanced at Will, who with an apologetic look in his deep brown eyes opened his mouth to attempted to speak, but she raised her hand slightly to stop him and shut her eyes to contain the tears where they brimmed, then continued after a silent moment. "My father was part of our Council – a respected, intelligent man. He – we, were from a noble family, with every generation expected to make a mark on society. Our people worked with the Romans who had settled in the area and made a point to be diplomatic with them. For years, long before my birth, we coincided with them and thought ourselves equal. But they began to take, and take, and take, never thinking twice of the consequences or diplomacy. Our leader, Aesu, was outspoken and fearless enough to oppose the legions…. We all paid dearly." Again she paused, surprising herself that her voice lasted so long and still managed to only let a couple of lone tears roll down her cheek. She had finally gotten to the night of attack in her brief – so brief explanation and she bit the side of her tongue to gain control of her emotions, but this time to keep the anger from boiling up to the surface. Elizabeta grit her teeth as the bloody images flooded her mind. Closing her eyes didn't make them disappear and her hands began to shake as she continued. "They came in the night, with no warning. They burned our village; hundreds of people were killed in unspeakable ways… and just as many taken. The Council…including my father, and Aesu were captured, and taken to the cliffs. They were made to strip, tied to stakes, and were whipped within an inch of their lives, before they were thrown into the sea." Her head dropped, hiding her face from him, but she still strained with the effort to remain calm and collected. _Don't cry_, she chanted, _just don't cry_.

Will was silenced. This was a massacre. She had witnessed her father's death, the death of her friends and countrymen…he couldn't imagine…"Is this what you see in your dreams?"

The lump was shrinking, her tears were beginning to dry, leaving a slight sheen lines down her face. Now her voice had become void and low – the dreams replaying in flickering pictures. "Sometimes I see his body being beaten into the rocks by the churning sea...his throat cut by a blade, the air being pulled from his chest by a noose… the methods of his death are always changing, but the result remains the same."

"I – I'm sorry, Elizabeta… I had no idea…" Will was choked up himself. Merely watching this girl visibly show so much anguish for her father's passing made him pity her and empathize with her at once. His right hand that was on the reins lifted slightly and he stopped himself from touching her hand that was resting on her knee. He wished to bring her closer to him, to hold her against him, to comfort her….but he bit his lip and relented, balling his hand instead.

"No I suppose you wouldn't," She sniffled. "But you aren't from Rome. You're from a province as well…was it always so peaceful in Rheatia?" She now yearned for him to divulge something of himself. Something that wouldn't leave her feeling so exposed. Besides, anything new she could learn about her new master seemed to be her greatest thirst these days.

He focused his gaze on the horse's bobbing head in front of him, tilting his own head thoughtfully to the side. "Relatively so – yes. I can't recall any skirmish in my time… We were very well protected, being so close to the mountains and in proximity to the sea. The army often used our ports for shipping… I suppose we were valued in a way."

"We assumed we had the same relationship with the army as well…" she scoffed under her breath.

"I never had to brandish a sword in the name of my own wellbeing until I left Rheatia" He added after a moment. The memory coming to him quickly once the picture of the Adriatic he had mentioned came to his mind's eye

Elizabeta saw the distant look on his gentle face. He didn't begin to elaborate so she quietly questioned him. She leant forward a bit more and slightly turned her shoulders so that she could better watch him speak. "What happened? Where were you?"

Will glanced at her from the corner of her eye, seeing her shift. He ran his hand through his hair which caught Elizabeta's attention…she couldn't help but let her mind wander and muse how soft his dark curls would feel between her fingers…and she was pulled from her thoughts by Will finally speaking. "I was part of a crew on a ship headed for Greece. We were attacked by pirates…we were taking on water fast, but the rogues weren't ready to let us or our cargo fall to the depths yet… they climbed aboard and slit throats, threw men over board with no arms to save their lives." His grip tightened on the reins. "I took up my sword and fought the best I could as the ship went down…" Will's head dropped and when he gazed up at the road again, she noticed that the muscle in his jaw was taut "I lost count. There were so many men on both sides – falling, yelling, bleeding… I can't say how many I killed." His voice was so quiet by the time he spoke the last few words she struggled to make them out.

Will had stopped his hand from touching hers when she had told her sad tale but Elizabeta did not hesitate. Perhaps it was his soft and gentle heart, his masculine voice made husky with tears that always melted her sense of propriety, but she did not have a second thought when her hand met his and her fingers curled to rest just below his thumb. "But you lived."

He looked down at their joined hands and he noticed quickly that warmth spread like a wildfire from where their skin met. "I did. I managed to get ashore after being stranded in the water for two days, staying afloat by driftwood – parts of our ship."

"It's amazing you survived." She breathed, truly impressed and saddened by his story.

Will turned his head and gave her a small crooked smile. "We both are survivors. The fates have another plan for our lives, it seems"

She diverted her eyes from his grin; he seemed too handsome to look at when he broke out into a magnificent grin when his eyes had been so sad just seconds before. She was silent for a moment…unsure of how to ask the question that she had been questioning since her father had been taken from her. "But do you ever feel…."

He saw her hesitance and prodded gently "What?"

Her eyes quickly met his "Guilty?" she questioned. Her fingers growing tighter on his hand…then her eyes dropped to the floor of the carriage, boring holes into the wood "for surviving. When the others…suffered…died."

"Yes" he said, his voice calm and slow "…for months I fought with myself. Why was I the one who managed to escape? Because I was a hired hand on board and happened to bring a sword with me? The other men were just sailors, they'd never been prepared to fight… And I thanked and cursed the gods at the same time for wielding my sword and killing those pirates. I should have died with the other sailors. There was no reason for me to wash ashore, days later, with breath still in my lungs." Will's eyes had darkened and he felt the weight heavy on his shoulders as if the words he spoke were tangible and binding things. He took a deep breath and let his mind and chest feel a little less cluttered and turned his attention back to Elizabeta. He did not want her to feel as if she deserved to endure this same guilt. "But you, it was by no fault of your own that you came to this country."

She shook her head solemnly "So many others died….". Quickly her posture changed from slouched shoulders to a straitened back and Will watched and listened intently noticing the change. "Do you know why I was chosen? Why we were the ones chosen to be shackled and brought to the auctioning block? ...Our gender, or age, our looks" she almost spat the list. Distain and anger boiling under her fair complexion. Her voice was quiet and as soon as she spoke the words she clamped her lips shut for slight nervousness her quick release of emotion would warrant from Will – someone who benefited from her coming here.

"It is true… I cannot imagine the fear and the…anger…you must feel for what happened. But you are still fortunate enough to feel. You and I are fortunate to have made it through the fray." Will spoke softly and gently. He had had a couple of years to contemplate these life questions and he knew the range of emotions that she was feeling now and he was hopeful that she would listen to his words of comfort.

She was quiet for a moment, and then she glanced up at him. His chiseled features lined with his dark brown curls, the deep warm pool of his eyes, the softness of his mouth…he looked at her so adoringly…so caring… a smile pulled at her own lips. The tearing feelings at her heart that she felt moments before had been melted away with just one look at him…"Yes"

Will revealed a grin as well, unable to hold it back seeing her brightened face. He looked down and noticed her hand was still holding his, tingling against his skin, fitting perfectly on the side of his hand as if they had been forever molded that way.

"Will?" she questioned quietly

"Yes?" he leant forward slightly, still in a slight daze of the effect she was having on him…first her hand…then a smile… her proximity… he was in the very beginning stages of intoxication as far as he could tell.

"Could we…" she seemed shy too ask, her eyes not meeting his for very long.

"Yes?" and even he could notice the hopeful tinge in his voice as soon as the words left his mouth.

"Could we perhaps stop to eat now? I'm quite hungry" she finished with an impish grin

Will blinked. He gazed up at the midday sun and scratched his head. "Yes, of course, eat."


	9. VIII: Ostia

The travelers took the chariot a short ways through a narrow gap in the forest of trees to the side of their path so that they could be far enough from the road to not be bothered by any passerbys. The bread and sausage were still cool from the cellar when Mia had put it in the basket wrapped in cloth before their journey began. The watered down wine was refreshing as well. Will watched her as she leant against he tree, her legs crossed and how delicately she her fingers gripped the cup… the way her lips curled around the bread and the fleck of a crumb at the corner of her full mouth that he wished his finger would have gently brushed away….or dare he even imagine it…kissed away…till her own finger brushed it aside.

Elizabeta could feel his gaze on her. She could see him out of the corner of her eye and she was very aware of her movements. Quickly she brushed her mouth, as she was embarrassed of the crumb left on the edge of her lip. The cloth that the bread had been wrapped in was draped over the basket. The golden colored thread that lined the edges caught here eye and she gently fingered the fine cloth. Will noticed what had caught her attention and he vocalized what he guessed she was thinking

"Very rich cloth for something to merely keep your bread warm" he laughed, a hint of a nervous waver in his voice. He couldn't help but be slightly ashamed of the pomp his father's household must convey to her.

She continued to chew a small laugh escaped in quiet agreement. Its true that all the show and flash of the Romans, especially the class of the patricians was something she never really understood. "Hmm yes, the Roman's do always have an eye for the…rich" she agreed as politely as she could.

Will could not gauge her expression to know what more she was feeling. But he wanted them to continue talking. He was always searching for some indication that she felt comfortable with him, hoping she knew she was welcome to talk to him freely.

"When we walked through the city a few days ago, how did you like the buildings? We passed the Basilica Aemelia, the Temple of Venus Genetrex, and you saw the great Forum on our way up to Palatine Hill…the other senators villas… hopefully you found some of the…richness, beautiful?" He asked genuinely eager for her to enjoy the sights around her, however imposed on her they may be.

She pursed her lips in thought, brushed a stray tendril of hair from her cheek and answered truthfully: "you have many more mud and thatch hovel shops and houses than I expected from such a civilization that managed to conquer mine and call _us_ barbarians…." Her chin had been raised when she spoke and she even met his eye…soon her resolve faulted when she read the surprised look on his face and she turned her gaze to the bare ground below her. "But the marble buildings are lovely…and the villas…they're very beautiful." Quickly, images of the governor's villa, the officers and officials villas from Britannia came to mind. "I've seen plenty in my land, they always seemed like…museums, cold, bare, so much show and formality…but…your villa…." She paused and searched her mind for the right way to describe it, a way to put into words what she had only until now experienced without definition… "It is no less beautiful, please don't mistake me, but it seems very much like a home" she finished…her voice much softer than her harsh words a moment before.

A slow smile spread across Will's face. "Good", he breathed. It was his heart speaking for his head. "I'm glad you think so," he said gaining his wits a little bit more. "I hoped that you would feel welcome there."

She smiled at his smile and again played with the golden thread of the cloth, unsure of what to say to such a seemingly heartfelt and genuine acceptance.

"As the daughter of one of the council of your land, were you ever in their villas accompanying your father? Or…" his mind flashed to something more intimate, something more coveted… a thought that quickly made his stomach churn. "Were you ever promised to any of them?"

He had finished asking the question before he had proper time to gauge his frankness. But as soon as the words left his mouth, Will ducked his head and Elizabeta answered with a quick. "No no, nothing like that" and she felt compelled to continue. "I am not betrothed or married to anyone… and yes, as my father's only child he trusted me with a great deal of responsibility. I would accompany him to dinners in the roman's homes sometimes, more so when I was younger…"

Will's light heart and smiling face upon hearing her unatchment soon faded when he heard the last part of what she said and a look of confusion took its place. "When you were younger… Why so? Why not when you became older, more able to engage in the adult's conversations?"

She bit her lip and took a minute to compose her features before she continued. "I seemed to gain more male attention as I grew up. My father was very aware what kind of things the Romans were capable of when they saw something that they had a mind to attain…" And she left it there for Will to interpret the rest of it and all that it implied.

Will knew what kind of things powerful Roman men were capable of. He knew how important it was for women to remain protected in their father's household until she could be protected in her husband's household. Girls who weren't from fellow patrician families, much less a girl who was not a Roman citizen was fair game to be tossed around like dice on a playing board. He had learned that she was twenty years old a couple of days previous… which is years beyond the common age of one's first marriage and he wondered how she had escaped being given away to a Roman officer or official with a heavy coin purse and a greedy appetite for a beautiful Briton to warm his bed _. He had broached the subject lightly a moment before and she had freely responded so his curiosity goaded him on. "How is it that you managed to evade marriage?...if not to one of the Romans than to even one of your own people?"

"Its true that I'm well passed 15th birthday" she said, knowing that that was the latest common age for a girl to become a wife. Her face even colored slightly, well aware that Will could see this as some kind of sign that she was unfit in someway. "…But my father was not willing to part with me to just anyone. Many asked my father for my dowry… but he urged me to marry for love. He had loved my mother when they were married and he wanted me to experience the kind of happiness they had shared before she passed… and I was in no hurry to leave my father by himself." Her voice was soft when she finished speaking but she eagerly awaited his reaction and to know what he would think of such a father. She had always admired him for going against the grain of custom and truly keeping his daughter's happiness his priority.

Will was surprised…but pleasantly so. He leaned back against a rock to his left, reclining slightly, but never taking his eyes off her. "He loved you very much." It was not a question. He could tell just knowing her briefly, the things he did for his daughter, the way her eyes shined in his memory, and everything about her was the product of this loving, doting father who now would no longer be a part of her life. No longer her companion, no longer there to protect her.

Elizabeta nodded and cast her gaze away. She bit her lip in thought and Will caught her contemplative gesture…as well as how sensuously her full bottom lip gave away to her pearl white teeth… her muscles were tensed in her stomach in case of a rebuff but she persisted with her question. "May I ask why you have not taken a wife?"

For a moment will was distracted not only by her alluring mouth but also by the way the word 'wife' was lilted by her foreign tongue… like music from a harp… warm honey and spiced wine to the ear. "Like you I had not seriously considered leaving my mother. She did not remarry after my father and… I had never thought of making any of the girls in my village my wife…they were all so… provincial." He chuckled. She laughed as well, knowing the kind that he meant. Boorish conversations of rainy seasons and wheat yielding and sheep breeding and never any such talk of art or history or epics or poems or seeing the wonders of distant lands… she could see easily that Will was that sort of person too – always looking for the spark behind someone's eye that was the result of lighting deeper in their soul.

Elizabeta pursed her lips and her brow furrowed. "I am slightly confused though…as I understand it, your father only passed recently, while I thought that it was your mother who had not outlived him…"

Will straightened up from his reclining position and cleared his throat. "Yes my mother died a few years ago. But while I was growing up, I was led to believe that my father was a sailor and that is why he never came home to us. Only recently did I learn that he was a senator who had married my mother in secret… my father may have died a few days ago, but to me he was already a little dead to begin with… I never knew the man." He glanced at her face and saw the open look of sympathy and before she could speak he continued: "That is why we're here." He said, spreading his arms and showing a small smile. "We're finding out about him a little at a time…together."

She smiled fully at the statement and again had to avert her gaze like a shy schoolgirl. When had she become so dewy-eyed, she chastised herself? "You have already traveled the open seas, and seen other lands, went from a rural village to living in one of the richest Villa's in Rome…it seems you have already lived a whole life." She mused to him.

Will grinned and stood slowly. "So have you." He said wryly. Now he stood above her, his chiseled features cut in definition from the overhead sun, the wind slightly ruffling his hair, and Elizabeta felt herself draw a sharp intake of breath at the beautiful sight of him. "And I plan to settle my life down a little from now on." His expression was still one that was smiling but otherwise unreadable to her. He offered and extended hand and she took it, drawing her up easily, and quite closely, in front of him.

Will could see that his comments had left her without much to say, or too much to say, he couldn't be sure, but there was an openness about her face, her clear bright eyes and that full mouth that always seemed in danger of gifting him with a smile – all of which gave him some confidence. "Shall we continue our journey?" he gestured to the carriage where the horses were stomping impatiently.

She nodded.

They rode into Ostia a couple of hours before sunset. The port town was never quiet but as quiet as it could be any time of the day now that all the morning hustle and bustle had dissipated. Just like in Rome in the forum, there were merchants and salesmen loudly advertising their merchandise and the superiority of their quality, but these men seemed to be at every corner. Their booths were capable of being torn down quickly in case the alarm was raised of an approaching soldier policing the area. These men were getting their goods straight from the ships that docked and were attempting to evade taxes and the inconvenience of a middleman that would take the goods to Roman shops. The town also stunk horribly of the stockyards. Cattle mooing could be heard for miles around the city and the second indication to Will and Elizabeta, besides the distant silhouettes of the buildings that they were getting close.

Once Will told one of the guards posted at the entrance of the city his name, he allowed him to bring in his carriage through, which otherwise would been held up to avoid street congestion until the sun had set. Obviously the merchants on the roadside knew that the two travelers must be wealthy and they made their best effort to secure their sales as they passed. Elizabeta moved herself as close to Will as she could and away from the edge of the carriage to avoid their pushy pleas. Will linked his arm through hers before holding the reins with both hands again. To any onlooker, they would look like a beautiful, young, patrician couple – a perfect picture of the vigorous blossoming future of elite Roman society… but if one looked closely enough one would see that there was no jewels or precious metal adorning the lady, and although the fabric of her clothes was fine to be sure, it was nothing like what a wealthy lady of status should be wearing. Nonetheless, a couple they could easily pass for.

Will tilted his head so that she could hear him above the chatter and noise around them. "I have no contacts in this city or I would have written to them about hopefully hosting us for our stay…as it is our journey is rather sudden, I hope you don't mind staying in an inn."

Elizabeta chuckled quietly to herself…This man… her master… he never ceased to surprise her with his very, well, un-master-like behavior. She was still in the early throws of learning just how big his heart could be. "No, of course not" And she gave him a reassuring smile.

Will found an inn that looked respectable, which meant that there weren't too many women who called themselves lupa standing outside offering their services for the night. The establishment was three stories with a large stable attached. There was a fresh coat of paint on the façade and it was the potted lavender on the upper windowsills that really convinced Will that they should stop here for the night. His mother always smelled of lavender.

The stable boys led the horses to their quarters and Will slipped them a few denarii to make sure they brushed them well before morning and gave them fresh hay tonight. Elizabeta carried their belongings under her right arm. Will noticed that as they walked the few yards from the stable to the front of the inn that Elizabeta has linked her left arm through his and seemed uncomfortable around the other people. He patted her hand that rested on his forearm reassuringly. "It's alright" he reassured her. He knew from being around her the past few days and from what Mia had told him when they two of them had gone into the city that she was very alert of her surroundings and visibly unsure of anyone who grew near to her. He couldn't blame her for her feelings of suspicion or perhaps pure fear considering everything that she had been through recently. Will also couldn't help but let a smile spread across his lips feeling her soft warm skin against his and the trusting firm grip she had just for him. Elizabeta knew she could trust Will to protect her if she needed it. She was lucky he was such a caring man and not merely a master that protected her out of necessity, but a master that protected her out of concern and care for her. Before they stepped through the door he stopped and talked lowly for her ears only. "I'm afraid when we're around other people you'll have to refer to me as 'Master' or 'Dominus'… if someone hears a slave refusing to use those titles they don't take it kindly." His eyes gazed on her apologetically.

He could see by her expression that this worried her further.

"Don't worry", He amended quickly, "I won't let anything happen to you" and a gentle grin sealed his promise.

When they entered they went to the man behind the counter and Elizabeta stood behind Will but still not being anywhere near out of reach.

"Can I help you Domine?" the middle aged man stood from his chair seeing how finely this young man in front of him was dressed

"Yes I'd like a room for the evening, possibly two, I'm unsure how long my business will keep me in town. I would like two beds in the nicest room you have." He cleared his throat and straightened his back.

The inns keep looked at him quizzically wondering why he wouldn't want to share a bed with his bed servant but didn't question him. Instead he opened a large book and began scanning down the page. Creases formed in the middle of his forehead. "I'm sorry Domine but the finest room I have on the third floor has only one bed…but I do have a room open on the first floor with two beds…" he finished weakly, not wanting to displease this powerful man.

Will shifted his feet. He knew that the third floor room would be much nicer than anything that was available on the fist floor. Elizabeta had lived in squalor enough having to endure the long ship voyage to this land. If he could make anything more pleasant for her from now on, he would be sure to do everything in his power to do so. "Give me the room on the third floor."

"Yes Domine" the man quickly found the key and Will hastily placed more than enough denarii to pay for the room on the counter. Will looked behind his shoulder to Elizabeta as a plea to follow him up the stairs. "Thank you," he mumbled to the inns keep.

"My pleasure Domine! If you need anything you only need to ask Domine!" he called up the stairs after him, quickly scooping up the money into his pouch.

As soon as Will agreed to the one bed room Elizabeta's stomach went into knots. She quickly began to question if the whole day had been a rouse so that he could gain her trust and then have an excuse of bedding her. She thought that she had began to know Will better than that in the past few days but she knew Roman's better than she knew Will and Roman's could never be fully trusted. She held her concerns to herself. Will was just as nervous but for other reasons. He hoped that his decision didn't make her uncomfortable and he would hopefully find enough blankets and cushions in the room to create a makeshift bed on the floor. He was going to be in the same room as her, sleeping so close to her, soon he'll be hearing steady breathing and wonder what she will be dreaming about…imagining the swell of her hip under her gown…under the covers…Will shook his head. He slipped the key in the lock and opened the door.

The wide windows opened to the sea and the lavender flowers Will had noticed from the street say perched below the aquatic scene, almost framing the view for the occupants. It wasn't as finely furnished as Will's villa but the décor was lovely nonetheless. The sun was almost below the horizon and the purples, burnt oranges, deep reds filled the sky and reflected off the pristine water of the Mediterranean… Elizabeta set their things down on an ivory armrest chair and walked quietly to the window, the pale yellow drapes flowing gently next to her. Her hands rested on the sill of the window, close enough for her to smell the salty sea air and the sweet scent of the flowers mixed together. Will watched her move mindfully to the window and the breathe was caught in his chest seeing her stola flutter behind her, the thin smooth cloth clinging to her form from the front, the soft curls of her honey hair resting on her shoulders…she was the picture of divine beauty, a living breathing manifestation of Venus herself. But Will also saw that there was something clouding her usually open continence. He approached her slowly and kept his eye on her as he did so. No one spoke for a moment or two. Then Elizabeta inhaled deeply and let the sea breeze wash over her. "The last time I smelled the sea was when they took us off the boats." Her hand lifted from the sill and her slender finger pointed to one of the docks below them down the street a ways. "Right there, I'm sure of it… I remember it perfectly."


	10. IX: Strong

The world lulled from side to side and pitched forward and backward. It would have been a soothing repetitive motion if it weren't for the other senses of the body.

Smell. The thick stench of the air was like a blanket of fog on a riverbank on spring day when dawn breaks, but much less pleasing. The odor of human waste and vomit, as well as the sickeningly salty smell of sweat and blood was pungent.

Sound. There was faint whispering that was drowned out by the whimpering, sniffling, and outright weeping of people, mixed with a few moans and grunts of pain and discomfort… they were all hushed and muted sounds, no one wanting to draw any unneeded attention specifically to themselves, it seemed.

Sight. It took her a moment or two after she awoke to actually open her eyes. Once she did, her surroundings were blurry and figures and shapes had no right angles or clear colors. She tried to move her hand to rub her face but found that it was chained to her other hand and shackled to the wall that she was facing and she lie there. She moved her hands as much as she could, using the bit of slack that she had, bent her head and shut her eyes once more as her fingers rubbed away the grime from her lashes. Sitting up slowly, she turned to survey the room. These smells and sounds had faces. Faces she knew. People from her village.

Quickly all her senses began to work at once, together, and her memory joined in. This was the umpteenth day that she had been on this ship. It was unclear how many days exactly… If the Romans came down the steps with slop to ladle into their waiting hands twice a day…then that would mean it was roughly the 17th day aboard, 18 days since her father died, and four days since she had lost her appetite. Without sunlight to aid her in keeping track of sunrise and sunset, this pig meal is her best semblance of a calendar.

Pig meal, fitting description… colorless goo that tastes as bad as it smells. It's questionable what it entails but there is some kind of stale and insect ravaged wheat involved. Her stomach lurches at the memory of crunching black husk and beetle bodies from her last meal yesterday. She eats only enough to ward off the pains, but any more than that, and she will wretch. She's not the only one. There are others, mostly the young women and a few of the older people who also can't hold it down. It seems her peoples' young and healthy men are the only one's with iron stomachs, and there is not many of them left alive now. Most died fighting, the others were dragged off the ship 15 days ago when they, she assumed, docked in Gaul.

She could hear the shouts and murmurings of the Gaulish tongue, her ear pressed against the swollen wood of the ship. She had steeled herself when the soldiers came down the steps, but they only grabbed a few of the men and hauled them up. More men gone, more men taken to their death or taken to their lives of chains. As she watched them go, she thought of her father, also led in chains to that cliff. Her memory flickered to a stop. She could not recall anything past seeing her father turn to her, his hands bound together, but raised to his heart when he looked her in the eye and said, "Stay strong, my Elyrch". She had wept for days after that until she was sure that she had no more tears left.

She thought that the soldiers would return to the ship to retrieve the rest of them but when they returned it was only with bulging coin purses and breath that smelled of spiced wine. The next morning they set sail again and the ship had not stopped pitching and rolling ever since. She could only assume that they were going to Italia, considering how long they had been on the ship. On what she assumed was the 23rd day of her journey, she heard heavy footfalls descend the stairs and the figure that emerged was not dressed as commonly as the others before him. Elegant claps held his armor to his shoulders, his untainted, blood red cloak flowed behind him as he strode through the dark hallway that was their holding chamber, and his cleanly shaved face and shortly cropped hair all culminated to tell her that this was a man of rank, and probably, of self-importance.

He walked slowly, his heavy heel making a THUD against the floor with each calculated step. He was careful not to step in anything unseemly as he made his way past the faces that dared not look up at him. He paused at the huddled body of a brunette girl, Arliss, a girl two or so years older than she who lived on the other side of the village. Her father was a tanner and one of the best in town, and her husband was his apprentice. Her husband had been led up to the upper deck earlier and she was still sniffling back the tears that threatened to fall when the officer reached down and grabbed her chin. Her face turned up to him but her eyes remained downcast. He glanced beside him at one of the soldiers and gave a stiff nod. The girl was unclasped from the two at her sides and lead up the stairs, her tears now flowing freely. The officer then murmured something to the same man who then turns and yells for them to get to their feet. Some move slower than others and they are kicked or prodded to move faster. Elizabeta tries to move her legs, which have been stretched out beside her but finds that her left foot is hindered by the chain of the person she is attached to. It is old Finny Baibre, a middle-aged widow from across the valley, who, Elizabeta realized, had not made a peep since late last night before dinner. She quickly notices that there is a pool of vomit under her head and an unnatural arch to the woman's neck as she lay on the damp ground. She hears the soldier's jeers grow closer and she tries to free her chains to allow her foot slack but she soon finds her head against the ground next to Finny Biabre's knee and blinding pain shooting from her right eye socket and cheek. The soldier grabs her by the neck of her tunic and hauls her to her feet, his hand raised, poised for another blow "I said to your feet, you savage whore!"

The man is quickly thrown back by the officer and held by his cloak. Elizabeta falls to the floor, her hand quickly going to her already swollen eye and cheek.

"If you want to get the highest price for a barrel of apples, you don't go bruising them, you imbecile." The officer explains in a harsh and annoyed voice. He releases the soldier and turns to the girl on the ground, crouching in front of her.

Elizabeta met his gaze willingly, unlike Arliss had, and clenched her teeth tight, though her sore face protested. The man's face slips into a sliver of light from above the decks and she can see his features clearly for the first time since strode down the stairs. He has dark blue eyes and a shrewd mouth. His jaw is weaker than his nose and forehead. His face is unforgettable to her since the moment that she first laid eyes on him. This is the officer that led the raid on her village and ordered the government council, including her king, Aesu, and her father to be whipped and killed.

Elizabeta struggled to hold her lips in a straight line and not spit in the face of the man that made her body burn with such hatred.

His finger lifted up her chin so that he could take a closer look at her face. His eyes roamed her features, a sickening smile spreading across his face. His eyes then found hers, and he realized the blazing intensity in which she glared at him. He held her gaze.

The solider that he had just berated, spoke up "This one won't eat all she is given, sir. At this rate its unsure if she'll live long enough to see the selling block."

The officer's eyes never left her face. "Oh…she'll see it, alright."

His finger moved from her chin to her neck, his thumb coming to the other side, so that he is gingerly grasping her throat in his hand. When he speaks, its not in Latin, but in her native tongue, "Why won't you eat?"

She tries to hide the anger and bile that is rising from her chest. She is surprised that his accent is so spot on and for a second she wonders how long he had spent in Brittania and with her people to perfect the language… these same people who he would slay and sell without a second thought. He could feel his fingers tighten around her throat as the seconds tick by with out a response from her.

"Why won't you eat?" he repeats again, this time with a bit less patience and it a bit more venom.

"I'll get her to talk, sir" and the soldier moves to grab her but he is shoved back again by the officer toward the wall, where he nearly falls from tripping over one of the people shackled behind him.

"I've seen your methods, Gregarius…keep your fucking hands off of her – off of all of them." he says exasperatedly, turning his attention back to Elizabeta, still in his grasp. "I have my own methods…and this one…" he lingers, his thumb caressing the skin of her neck while still applying pressure enough for her to suppress the urge to cough, "this one is a very pretty apple. I think I will have her to eat all for myself."

By now, the soldier, who has been pushed, hit, and reprimanded, is hesitant to speak, but does eventually pipe up after a moment. "Shall I put her in your quarters, Tribunus Nortanus?"

Nortanus contemplated his question, his face drawing closer to her own. Her chin was tipped up toward him, the grip on her neck tighten slightly, daring her to pull away from his slow and steady advance. His nose was a ghosting touching away from her own and Elizabeta's breathing spiked to an angry labor, her eyes still boring into his. Nortanus grinned, loving the fire that was exuding from her body, this one was feisty and beautiful, a challenge in the bedroom, to be sure. If he wasn't mistaken, she was also one of the councilor's daughters, an unmarried girl who was overprotected by her ignorant father, so he knew she must be a virgin. The brunette girl, he knew, was married and no harm could be done if he bedded a wench who no longer had her maidenhood. This one, on the other hand, would be hard to explain away to Antonius if he questioned why this precious cargo of virginal purity had been ruined. Virgins always drove a higher price than the rest…and he was willing to pay a little extra for this blonde little morsel.

"No" he breathed. For a second, Elizabeta dared herself to feel a bit of optimism.

He continued, "I'll have her properly when she is mine to be had."

Suddenly he released her and he stood, still looming over her, casting a dark shadow on the floor where she sits. He reaches down moves a braid of hair from her neck to behind her shoulder. A kind of tender gesture that was so contradictory to his harsh and menacing actions just moments ago. Elizabeta continued to stare, never blinking an eye.

"Make sure she eats enough until we get to Ostia." He says, then Nortanus turned on his heel, beckoning the other soldiers to follow him, and in a whirl of capes and clanking of metal, they're gone.

Two days later she, and the remaining others had been led above to the deck. The sun was nearly blinding and her legs refused to move in step with one another. She had attempted to eat more of the pig meal since her confrontation with Nortanus, with a soldier glaring at her until she swallowed at least half of her ration, but it was still not enough to aid her strength. It wasn't Nortanus' bidding she was doing, it was her father's last words that rang in her ears: "_Be strong, my Elyrch…",_ because she knew how disappointed he would be in her if she was starving herself and not fighting for life, letting these Romans get the best of her.

She surveyed her surroundings from the perch of the ship and saw a bustling city. There were other ships docked, wagons in tow, goods being transported and sold, people buying and selling and walking to and fro. There were a few beautiful buildings that lined the dock, but most of them were warehouses and whorehouses, both easy accesses for sailors and soldiers. There was one building that caught her eye that sat a little ways off from the water, perched on a slight hill above the rest close by. It had pots of lavender in the open windowsills. For a second she smelled the sea air, got a glimpse of the bright blue Mediterranean waters below and inhaled the warm salty breeze and let herself have a moment of reverie. For all the horror she had seen, all the fear and anger she had felt, for the pain of hunger and bruises and raw skin, for the cries and whimpers of protest of fear and sadness around her… it was a kind of oddly beautiful place. She soon was pulled from her thoughts while she walked the steps down the gangplank, noticing that men had gathered around and began to whistle and call lewd things at them. She snuck a peek to her left at one of them who had his hand down his robe and a salivating look on his face. She quickly averted her eyes forward and kept her chin up as she moved past. Before she had a chance to walk the stiffness from her legs, she was hauled up into a wagon crammed with 10 other women. She noted that Arliss was with her, her hair in more disarray than it was when she left and her knees pulled up to her chest. Arliss caught Elizabeta's eye and gave a shy, yet sad smile before looking at her feet again. Elizabeta shuddered to think what that woman had endured the past few nights that she herself was spared.

The wagon ride was bumpy and took the whole day. The caravan of slaves and soldiers stopped a couple of times to give the horses a break and the soldiers a chance to eat. The new slaves stuck out their hands from the bars of their wagons as the last scoops of pig meal were pushed into their palms. Each little motion like this with her arms and hands burned her wrists. She was sure that her skin was raw at this point and she had seen puss come from under the shackles of her wrists more than once in the past week. After a while, after the blinding pain from each twitch of a muscle, the teeth gritting and the aching, it soon became a dull throb that she put to the side of her mind. She had become accustom to the pain.

It was no mystery to her what was waiting for them in Rome. She knew, from hearing the soldiers talk, that they themselves would disperse and find beer or wine and women to keep them company in a bed that did not pitch back and forth, the slaves would be taken to their seller, and in a short time they would be sold to the highest bidder. They would then be owned, as a goat is owned, or a bed is owned, their lives would no longer be their own. This was the way of it. This was how things were done when there is war, because in war there is always a victor and to the victor go the spoils. How the war even existed in the first place was what was a void in her mind. She had thought the Romans were friends with her people. They had lived amongst them, even married some of the locals, bothered to learn a bit of the local language, her people learned Latin, adopted many of the customs of their culture…had it not been enough? Had her father or her king went back on their word somewhere? Wronged them? …She had so many questions about their reasoning…the slaughter, the betrayal, and the dishonor…

She was frightened; she must be honest with herself. She was afraid of what tomorrow would bring. The countryside was beautiful, with rolling hills and strange looking trees, even the grasses seemed to sway differently here. This strange land where everyone was the enemy, the people of the men who betrayed her and killed her father. Nortanus would be the first man to take her into his bed if he had his way, and she was sure that she would see him again in the crowd while she stood on the selling block. He had calmness about him, a quiet thunder that rumbled from within that shook her to her core…. She must never show it. She must never show fear or anger, she must never let them see her weaknesses for they will surely use them against and now, more than ever, she needs to remain strong.

A voice pulls her from her thoughts

"Enter!"

And the gates of the city draw open, slowly revealing the center of the world. Rome.

Will placed his hand on her shoulder gently and he felt how stiff she was. As she recounted her tale her fingers fisted, her back tightened, her brow furrowed and slowly Will saw her visibly relax under his touch.

"We don't have to stay by the sea. I'm sure we can find a room further in town if this is too difficult to bear being right outside our window"

Elizabeta's eyes quickly met his. She examined his face and let his voice linger in her ears. He was so gentle. She had never met a more gentle man in her life. It was not a patronizing kindness that made her feel like a child, or a false kindness that told her that more than consolation was expected for his efforts. She found herself leaning slightly toward him, drawn by his warmth of body and heart. Another breeze ghosted between them and the lavenders scent tickled her nostrils. Elizabeta blinked a few times stood straighter again, fingering a petal of the purple flower.

"No…thank you Will. You're kind but that won't be necessary. This is a very lovely room."

Will was quiet for a few seconds. He removed his hand from her shoulder but took a step closer to her. "Elizabeta" his tone was lower, more serious.

She had to look at him again. His voice caressing her name, his proximity, it was impossible not to be drawn to him like a moth to the flame.

"Did Nortanus ever…touch you again?"

Elizabeta simply shook her head. She wanted to say 'no, thanks be to the gods', but she wasn't sure if it was these Roman gods that she should thank anymore.

Will could see the gleam of fear in her eyes. He saw a glimpse of a young woman fearful for her life, fearful for her safety. He saw the core of her grievances and through the cloak of her strength that she donned each day.

Will took her hand in his and brought it between them. "I promise you that he will never hurt you. I promise."

Being in Ostia again, seeing and smelling everything that was locked away in the dark rooms of her heart, reliving the horrors of her father's death and her peoples' shame, and above all, Will's kindness and gentleness – seeing right through her – it was all too much at once and she wasn't sure she was crying until she found her wet cheek against Will's shoulder and his arms around her, gently stroking her back.

For a second, she thought about apologizing to her father for not staying strong in front of _them, _in front of a Roman_. _However, being in Will's arms, crying openly in a silent room, she had never felt quite so steadfast.

* * *

**So sorry for being on hiatus for so long! I'm in grad school now so, things haven't been slowing down for me much. I don't want you guys to think I was going to let this story go unfinished forever - I fully intend to complete it (hopefully to your standards) but it won't be in a timely manner. I know this chapter was probably highly anticipated for some of you and it may seem rather short, but Elizabeta's crossing was something that i wanted to tell sooner rather than later to set up her and Nortanus' past.**

**I hope you enjoyed! :)**


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